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HOME — THEN WHAT? 

THE MIND OF THE DOUGHBOY 
BY THE DOUGHBOY HIMSELF 



HOME— THEN WHAT? 

THE MIND OF THE DOUGHBOY, A. E. F. 



BY THE DOUGHBOY HIMSELF 

COLLECTED AND ARRANGED BY 

JAMES LOUIS SMALL 



WITH FOREWORD BY 

JOHN KENDRICK BANGS 




NEW XEJr YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 






COPYRIGHT, 1920, 
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



>EB i I 1320 



PRINTED TN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



©CI.A561837 



FOREWORD 

One of the questions most frequently asked of 
me on my return from France in June, 1918, was 
"What is the American boy thinking about over 
there f My stock answer to this was that any man 
who undertook to write a Baedeker of the Dough- 
boy's Mind must in the very nature of things be a 
human Argus, with a million eyes, and every eye an 
X-ray optic at that, and a thousand hands, each 
hand holding a pen with a thousand nibs. There 
were two million of America's sons over there at 
that time, and while at a distance of fifty yards they 
all looked alike, and strode along with the same con- 
fident step, and seemed rather to be cogs in a great 
machine than separate entities, soldiering had not 
made them any the less individual, and whatever 
had been done to them by their training to reduce 
or to elevate them to a type, physically their minds, 
in so far as I was able to get at them, had not ceased 
to function in the good old independent fashion. 
There are not wanting signs that a large number of 
observers who viewed it from coigns of vantage four 
or five thousand miles away, and others as well who 
studied the psychology of the doughboy through the 
large end of a telescope, have conjured up a beauti- 
ful vision of our lads rushing to the Front and over 



vi FOREWORD 



the Top, their hearts ringing with a lyric version of 
the Fourteen Points of Peace, and other highly con- 
centrated forms of American Ideals, and I would be 
the last person in the world to slur such a lovely 
idea; but it is the sad fact that at the time the boys 
were so gallantly going up and over, the Fourteen 
Points had not been promulgated, and that their 
main purpose and thought was to do a particularly 
disagreeable job as expeditiously as possible, unham- 
pered by historical afterthoughts or purely political 
abstractions. Nor could I find any traces in their 
minds, their hearts, or their actions, that the idea of 
Peace Without Victory possessed any particular al- 
lure, but on the contrary, a very decided predilec- 
tion for the beating up of the Hun in such fashion 
that the world would be assured against the possi- 
bility of ever having to beat him up again. 

There were, nevertheless, certain grooves of 
thought into which their minds seemed to run. The 
first had to do with Home, and they thought of that 
in terms of singular beauty. Some of them who 
had never before given much thought to Home 
found it all on a sudden idealized, and they glorified 
it as a sort of Eden from which they had been tem- 
porarily exiled, and to which .they longed to return, 
but not until they had further glorified it by doing 
well the thing they had left it to do. As an in- 
stance of this, I recall an encounter I had with an 
American doughboy early one morning in Paris. I 
was breakfasting in one of those chain-restaurants 



FOREWORD vii 



with which that fair city is afflicted, when this glori- 
ous lad came into my life. Finding myself some- 
what lonely, I hailed him and invited him to join 
me in a poor, but reasonably honest, platter of in- 
different ham and ancient eggs. Some questioning 
elicited from him the information that, however else 
Paris might impress others, in his judgment it was 
"a shine." He considered it "a phony burg," and 
why anybody should rave over it, believe him, he 
couldn't see. Whereupon I tried to tell him of some 
of the things that had made the French capital a 
Mecca of delight to so many thousands of his com- 
patriots, and he listened with entire respect, but at 
the end of my disquisition he came back upon me 
with 

"O H — 11, yes — Paris is all right; but, d — n it, It 
Ain't Fort Wayne ! !" 

It was a pleasing retort, and I was glad of it, and 
in a very essential way, for in varying ways it was 
the sentiment of most, it showed that while in all 
probability the bulk of our sons overseas had al- 
ways in the past taken their own country for granted, 
and had thought little, if at all, on the values of 
American Citizenship, they were coming back not 
better Americans perhaps, but more devoted, and 
more appreciative sons of America than they had 
ever been before. Which is one of the benefits that, 
like a lovely flower having its roots in mire, have 
sprung up out of the chaos of muddy, bloody ruin 
into which the War has plunged the world. 



viii FOREWORD 



Again, they were thinking a lot of "Dad" and 
"Mother," and if Dad and Mother do not al- 
ready know it as well as I do, who saw them face 
to face with temptations of an insidiously subtle sort, 
let me record here that the vast majority of them 
were as true to the ideals their fathers and mothers 
had set up for them as though Dad and Mother 
were right there with them day and night. I have 
not had the privilege of studying at close range other 
armies in the past, but I doubt if there was ever 
gathered together anywhere in the world a body of 
men equal in Character to those sons of ours "over 
there." They not only seemed obsessed with an urge 
towards the strictest kind of right conduct, but to it 
they had allied a stern resolve to keep themselves 
fit for the business in hand, and I have had them tell 
me in specific terms, with a light in their eyes that 
showed that they spoke not mere words, but their 
very souls, that they would rather cut off their right 
arms than by indulgence weaken their strength at a 
time when every ounce of it was needed to carry 
not only on but through. I was exceedingly glad to 
find this frame of mind among them for a very spe- 
cial reason. An official, high in authority in the 
United States Government, had requested me in my 
talks to the American Soldiers to warn them that 
"they should not regard going to France as the op- 
portunity for indulgences in Wine and Women," 
and I had informed him that I would not insult 
American youth by assuming that they had any such 



FOREWORD ix 



abominable ideas in their heads, and it was a joy to 
me when I got to France to find that my estimate of 
the character of Young America was as true as his 
was false, my only regret in the premises being that 
such as he were permitted to have anything to do 
with the destinies of our gallant boys, since in my 
judgment the merest association with minds of his 
type was contaminating, and to that extent demoral- 
ising. Fortunately, his contacts with the active 
fighting men were as limited as his knowledge as to 
their intrinsic character. 

A third thought common to the fighting men across 
the sea was that War as it had been scientifically 
developed was a "rotten business," and made addi- 
tionally rotten by the way circumstances compelled 
them to fight. They hated the mud of it, and they 
had a shame-faced sort of feeling that the heroism 
as well as the heroics of it had somehow been taken 
out of it by trench warfare. Long-distance fighting 
with an invisible foe was not suited to the tempera- 
ment of the American boy. He is not by nature 
quarrelsome, but he loves a scrap. A Rough-House 
suits him to a Tee. His naturally ardent spirits 
made the long, dreary, underground watching and 
waiting, with its dull, dirty monotony, a thing that 
irked his soul. If those that I met and talked with 
could have had their way there would have been 
more hand-work and less machinery about it. They 
wanted to get out into the open and show Hans and 
Fritz that back in America a real fight was a face 



FOREWORD 



to face affair, in which the Party of the First Part 
was a Man and not a Mole, who wanted nothing so 
much as direct individual results that he could see 
with his own eyes, whether the Party of the Second 
Part was a bigger man than he or not. This spirit 
was as strong in the men in the trenches as in those 
in the air, and while none of them wished to die un- 
necessarily, they were all more than willing to take 
their chances, which is why they had neither to be 
led nor to be driven over the top, and which, alas, 
is also why many of them in their eagerness to come 
to close quarters with their enemy ran into their own 
barrage fire, and died from shrapnel sped from their 
own guns. 

As to their mental attitude toward the enemy, I 
found a remarkable sense of discrimination among 
them between the Man and the Thing That the 
Man Did. There was no hatred of the German as 
an Individual, but a deep-seated abhorrence of the 
Hun's acts and methods. A German Prisoner, save 
in very rare and highly aggravated cases, was sure 
to be treated with more consideration by his Ameri- 
can Captor than he ever received at the hands of his 
own Officers, which may account for the surprising 
number of Kamerads that suddenly developed upon 
the battle-fields where the Americans were active. It 
was a far safer place for a Hun behind the Ameri- 
can forces than in front of them, and, despite his 
somewhat sluggish mental processes, Fritz was not 
slow to appreciate and to take advantage of the 



FOREWORD xi 



fact. But the American Soldier had no softness in 
him in action, and there his attitude towards the foe 
was perhaps best expressed by the word of an Amer- 
ican youth I encountered in Paris during one of his 
richly-earned rest periods. The last time I had seen 
that particular American lad was in an American 
School three years before at a time when he was pre- 
paring for College. Here in Paris I found him 
scarcely less youthful in spirit, but somewhat hard- 
ened physically by his strenuous experience in the 
Air Service. He wore the ribbon of the Croix de 
Guerre upon his breast, and it bore two palms, which 
signified that he had brought down two Huns in 
action. Considering his years, I thought of a ques- 
tion that had often arisen in my own mind, and I 
put it to him bluntly. 

"Son," said I, "how does a youngster like you feel 
when he realises that he has killed a couple of men 9" 

"I haven't," he replied simply. "I've only 
smashed a couple of rattlesnakes." 

In short, when the fighting was on in full force, 
in those dark months when the enemy appeared to 
be irresistible, with General Foch as yet an unde- 
termined quantity, with the British in Sir Douglas 
Haig's own words, "with their backs against the 
wall," and the Americans as yet untried, the boys 
from over here were thinking chiefly of their immi- 
nent job, resolved to do it as well as might be, to 
keep themselves fit, and dreaming of the Homeland. 



xii FOREWORD 

■ . — — fg 

If they were thinking of the future at all, it was the 
future only of the actual to-morrow, certainly not 
beyond it. To-day the situation is different. The 
War is over, or at least active armed hostilities have 
ceased until the Hun with his active Propaganda 
has succeeded in disrupting the Allies, and once more 
aligned the Armies the Armistice permitted to es- 
cape, and it is now less of the big job of America as a 
whole which has been left unfinished than their own 
special jobs in the days to come that they are concern- 
ing themselves with. They are already home in large 
numbers, and those of us who have our eyes open 
realise that they are thinking about something con- 
nected with their own individual future, but in just 
what terms ? In a way, it is the purpose of this little 
volume to point that out. It was my privilege in 
my visit to France this year, in May, June and July, 
to come into a somewhat personal relation with many 
of them, largely through the medium of The Com- 
rades in Service that splendid instrument of 
Morale Preservation, which in the difficult days fol- 
lowing the Armistice rendered invaluable service in 
upholding the Hold Together spirit of our lads not 
now fighting but marking time. And here let me di- 
gress for a moment to speak of the Comrades. The 
Comrades in Service movement — for it has been a 
movement rather than an organisation throughout 
its brief history — furnishes a fine illustration of the 
adaptability of the real American spirit. It owes 
its origin to Prof. O. D. Foster, of Chicago, who, 



FOREWORD xiii 



in his service at the front and in the S.O.S., had 
come to feel very strongly that now was the ap- 
pointed time to utilise and so far as possible to per- 
petuate those great unifying influences which had 
been born of the war and without which Amer- 
ica never could have played its wonderful part in 
the liberation of the world. His contact with the 
men of the A.E.F. had convinced him of three things : 
first, that every American is an idealist ; second, that 
no amount of military training would destroy his 
disposition to do things for himself in his own way 
instead of merely leaving it all to some one in Wash- 
ington or at G.H.Q. ; and, third, that in spite of his 
intense individualism, he was a friendly person, not 
caring very much as to the creed, politics or perma- 
nent residence of his neighbour in arms but demand- 
ing chiefly that he be a "regular fellow," willing to 
share his last blanket or his last cigarette with his 
mates. 

With these things in mind, Dr. Foster started his 
first Comrades in Service Company Club at Gievres, 
France, adopting a name given to a similar organi- 
sation he had directed while Y.M.C.A. secretary at 
Camp Custer, Illinois. The men responded enthu- 
siastically to the suggestion that they organise them- 
selves (rather than be organised) into a club officered 
by themselves, choosing and promoting their own 
activities and filled with the spirit which the name 
implied. Encouraged by this success, and seeing the 
great need and opportunity presented after the sign- 



xiv FOREWORD 



ing of the Armistice, Dr. Foster made bold to out- 
line his plan to Bishop Charles H. Brent, Senior 
Chaplain, G.H.O., and to Mr. E. C. Carter, Chief 
Secretary of the Y.M.C.A. ; Mr. E. L. Hearn, Chair- 
man Overseas Commission, Knights of Columbus; 
Rabbi H. G. Enelow, Director Jewish Welfare 
Board, and Col. W. S. Barker, Commander of the 
Salvation Army. As a result of these conferences, an 
agreement was made providing for the fullest co-op- 
eration between the different agencies represented 
with a view to presenting and promoting the Move- 
ment among the officers and enlisted men of the 
A.E.F. At a great mass meeting in the Palais de 
Glace in Paris, January 12, 1919, attended by Presi- 
dent Wilson and over 5,000 members of the A.E.F., 
the project was formally launched and at once heart- 
ily endorsed by the representative gathering. 

Quarters were first secured at the Religious Work 
Department of the Y.M.C.A., but very soon these 
proved inadequate, and Chaplain Edwin F. Lee, 
U. S. Army, personal representative of Bishop Brent, 
was installed in offices in Paris furnished by the 
Army and a personnel provided by the Army and 
Welfare organisations began to be built up. In the 
carrying out of the plan, the Army furnished Chap- 
lains and other officers and enlisted men, quarters, 
office equipment and supplies and printed an official 
handbook. The Welfare Organisations provided 
funds and personnel, together with use of huts and 
other facilities. Publicity was given through the is- 



FOREWORD xv 



suance of a bi-weekly bulletin, of which nearly a 
million copies have been printed and distributed. 
Several booklets, chief among which were Professor 
Soares' book on "Old Testament Studies in Comrade- 
ship," Malcolm Dana's "The War in Terms of Com- 
radeship," and Professor Collier's "A New World 
in the Making," and a large amount of miscellaneous 
literature were also distributed in large quantities. 

The activities favored and promoted by the men 
in the Company Clubs varied all the way from a non- 
sectarian Bible class or a personal purity propaganda 
to a Jazz Band minstrel show or a forensic meet. 
Various Welfare agencies had before this time done 
more for the American Army than was ever done else- 
where for any group of similar men. But here was 
a chance for the men to do something for themselves 
and for each other, and to do it in their own way. 
The special interest of the men in the discussion of 
public questions led to the establishment of a Forum 
department to provide topics for discussion and 
where practicable speakers as well. In addition, at 
least half a million men were addressed in mass meet- 
ings, called for the purpose of preparing the minds 
of the soldiers for return to civilian life, the motive 
being furnished in the motto, "We are to be mus- 
tered out of America's Army, but we are not to be 
mustered out of America's service." 

The original plan called for the formation of a 
veterans' association along these lines, but when the 
American Legion was organised by the officers and 



xvi FOREWORD 



men of the A.E.F., and after consultation with the 
Central Council of Comrades in Service, adopted al- 
most in its entirety the platform and principles of 
Comrades in Service, it was thought best to co-operate 
with the American Legion rather than to attempt to 
organise a rival veterans' association, with the under- 
standing that this co-operation would continue as 
long as the American Legion should be conducted 
upon that basis, and that the Comrades in Service as 
a purely military organisation among the men of the 
A.E.F. should cease to function with the return of 
the A.E.F. to America. 

From May first until military necessities com- 
pelled a cessation of activities and the dissolution 
of the original organisation in the A.E.F., material 
assistance has been given the Comrades in Service 
Movement by the action of General John J. Per- 
shing, Commander-in-Chief, in placing at the disposal 
of Comrades in Service the sum of over 100,000 
francs given by the Chicago Tribune to be used in 
whatever way General Pershing thought would be of 
greatest benefit to the soldiers. In announcing his 
decision, General Pershing said : "I have decided that 
this generous gift can be expended in no better way 
than by assisting the Comrades in Service, which af- 
fects and reaches every individual member of the 
A.E.F." General Pershing has since expressed the 
desire that the Movement be established as a perma- 
nent feature in the regular army, with such modifi- 
cations as peace conditions may require. 



FOREWORD xvii 



In accordance with the spirit of this suggestion, a 
Continuation Committee has been organised in the 
U.S.A. and has appointed a subcommittee, of which 
Dr. Arthur W. Grose, of Rochester, New York, is 
the Chairman, to work for the permanent incorpora- 
tion of the principles of Comrades in Service in the 
army and navy and their perpetuation through the 
American Legion and Community Service, Incor- 
porated. 

With disintegrating and demoralising forces at 
work on every side, in the days of the great recon- 
struction not less than in the days of the Great War, 
there is need for the unifying and genuinely con- 
structive influence of that unselfish spirit of service 
which has characterised those Comrades in Arms 
who upon the battle-fields of France have laid the 
foundations for a new and greater America in a new 
and greater world. 

In pursuance of an arrangement with this organi- 
sation, I was permitted access to our men, and I 
found them thinking hard and variously of several 
things, many of them lads of true vision wondering 
if the thing they had come over to do had really been 
done with a decisive finality, and uneasily sensing 
an actual loss of victory in the fact that having the 
enemy bagged they had been compelled by the Arm- 
istice to let him escape ; many of them openly hoping 
that the Peace Treaty would not be accepted by Ger- 
many so that they might advance, and History not 
have to record a failure to carry through ; but all of 



xviii FOREWORD 



them thinking loyally and lovingly of Home, and 
both its relation to them and theirs to it. They were 
for the most part like a cast of actors in a great drama 
approaching its final curtain wondering what their 
next role was to be. In the occupied territory of 
Germany they were still close enough to their po- 
tential enemies to be thinking primarily of them, and 
their unsatisfied need for further discipline ; but else- 
where, as I saw them in France, America was the 
burden of their thoughts. To concrete their ideas 
definitively was of course impossible, and it was here 
that Comrades in Service, in my judgment, ren- 
dered a signal service not only to the men them- 
selves, but to those of us at home as well who seek 
a leading insight into the innermost recesses of the 
soldier mind. In May, 1919, to stimulate self-ex- 
pression among the men, at the suggestion of Capt. 
Leon Schwarz, U. S. Army, three prizes were of- 
fered of 500, 250, and 100 francs, respectively, for 
the three best essays on the topic, "Home — Then 
What?" the subject having been selected by Chap- 
lain H. C. Fraser, U. S. Army. Although only a 
brief time could be given for the writing of these 
papers owing to the rapid movement of our troops 
to America, several hundred were sent in to the 
Judges, representatives of the Paris editions of the 
New York Herald, the Chicago Tribune, and the 
London Daily Mail. The essays here presented have 
been selected from these, and as a whole, perhaps, 
present the best symposium of soldier thought in ex- 



FOREWORD xix 



istence to-day. Indeed, to me they are more than 
that, for as I read them over and over again, I seem 
to glimpse not only the minds of our boys, but also 
to find in them a wonderful revelation of the Soul 
of our New America, born in the muck and mire of 
War, and bred in the blood of an unselfish devotion 
to the highest ideals of Service. 

John Kendrick Bangs. 

Ogunquit, Maine, September 30, 1919. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Prize Essays 

First Prize: Marcelle H. Wallenstein . . 25 

Second Prize: Joshua B. Lee 32 

Third Prize: Geo. F. Hudson 40 

Selected Essays 46 

Selected Extracts 220 



xxi 



HOME— THEN WHAT? 



I/ENVOI 

The nights we spent where the Boche flares lent 

Their red to the moonlit sky 
Are now forgot, and another spot 

Is luring our footsteps nigh; 
The hard heart thrills, for the rookie drills 

Are things of a soldier past, 
And gleams of home from across the foam 

Are calling us all at last. 

When rifles rust and the dingy dust 

Collects on the I. D. R., 
Our thoughts will grope for the periscope 

With visions of fields afar : 
Of parts we played and of pals we made 

That drift through a golden dream 
That waits beyond with the halcyon 

When memory reigns supreme. 

J. P. C. in the last number of 

The Stars and Stripes 

June 13th, 1919. 



HOME— THEN WHAT? 



FIRST PRIZE 

Marcelle H. Wallenstein, 

Pvt. l c. 104th Aerial Photo Section A.E.F., 
Weissenthurm, Germany. 
Home Address: 416 N. 3rd St., 

Atchison, Kansas. 

Come September — the promises of Congress bear- 
ing fruit — and the A. E. F. will be a memory. The 
first goal is home; the Yank in Europe must trade 
his o. d. for mufti before whatever ideas and ideals 
he has accumulated become correlated and codified. 
Then, living under conditions that make for freer 
self-expression, his theories and gropings should find 
their way to the surface. Assimilation into the life 
of his homeland will lie in the conflict between his 
changed attitude and whatever conditions there are 
to oppose it. Events at home already presage such 
a conflict. 

The veteran will hop into politics much as he 

went for enemy machine gun nests, or followed the 

25 



26 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

barrage of his artillery, and, it is to be hoped, with 
as clear a head. Which does not mean that every 
buck private who crossed the Atlantic has aspira- 
tions for Congress, nor does it follow that he will 
take to the chautauqua platform or the soap box 
and proceed to howl himself into immediate dis- 
favour. Not that. Still he is going into politics 
with an exploring forefinger, poking any number 
of holes into flimsy half measures, stripping away 
camouflage; prodding certain individuals farther 
than pre-election promises. This time and the next 
will find him looking under the band of the cam- 
paign cigar, and trying to do the same in regard 
to what lies under the hats of the men who want 
to represent him at Washington, at his state capital, 
and even in the council chambers of his home town. 
Certainly the man home from Europe will inject 
the prophylaxis against the germ of any national 
disease resembling, in its slightest symptom, Prus- 
sianism: he must do this, else his dreams will be 
made hideous by the fear that his buddies who lie 
in the rest camps on the Vesle, the Marne and the 
Meuse, died for something hollow and vain. Just 
as surely must he refrain from throwing his influ- 
ence into the pan weighted by that other extremist — •■ 
the Bolshevik — and it will not be the man who car- 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 2*7 



ried on in France until the day the armistice was 
signed, who will haul up the scarlet banner over our 
county court houses. There has been violence 
enough for him and his for generations to come; he 
has seen enough of his own kind fall before the 
agents of sudden death. 

Having lived in Europe; being given an oppor- 
tunity to compare the conditions of life in his own 
country with those of two, and in some cases, three 
and four foreign nations, there has come to him a 
realisation of the preciousness of American citizen- 
ship, and he will be the last to wish it fouled by the 
backwash of Europe's dissatisfied peoples. The cir- 
cle about the stove under the leaky barrack roof has 
expressed itself quite clearly on the immigration 
problem more than once since last November. There 
now exists the feeling that the equal rights of Amer- 
ica must not be handed to any and all, regardless 
of character and fitness, who after a too brief period 
of residence, express a desire to share in American 
benefits. So, as his rights as an American are dear 
to him, the soldier who represented his people in 
France, will have little toleration for or patience 
with the destructive radical, and will oppose him; 
just as he will oppose, with all his power, the com- 
ing to the United States of subjects of the ex-Kaiser, 



28 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

and after a period insufficient to deprussianise them, 
voting for a President of the nation. 

For the next few years, at least, it is felt that 
the nations of the eastern hemisphere should be al- 
lowed to shape their own courses, and, that after the 
conclusion of a satisfactory peace, the mingling by 
America in European and Asiatic affairs should be 
accomplished by the most cautious and conservative 
methods. Coupled with this is the belief that it is 
folly to undertake a housecleaning of the entire 
world when there is so much to be swept from our 
own doorstep. 

Whatever their sentiments on coming to France, 
Privates Schmidt, SterTansky, Merillo, O'Hara, 
Pappas and Jansen must each feel, as the transport 
bears him once again in sight of the statue in New 
York harbour, that she is the shining image of his 
own sweetheart, always to be guarded and protected. 

The question of the soldier's job is a pressing one; 
mostly he wants his old one back again, but if that 
is not as good as he believes himself capable of 
holding, then he will have a better one, and to get it 
and keep it he is willing and eager to prove himself 
able. For some endeavours he is better equipped 
mentally and even technically than when he put on 
the uniform. The superiority of his people in many 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 29 

— — — — — — — —— — — ^ — ■— — — ■ — — "^^— ■— ^^— ^^* 

accomplishments remains uppermost in his mind ; he 
scorns certain antiquated methods of Europe, but 
things he has seen have left their mark. If of the 
agricultural bent the Yank is returning home with a 
new idea about that three-acre strip, which since his 
birth has yielded little save a mixed crop of mullen 
weed and cocklebur. And he knows now what berry 
vines and certain small vegetables will do on the 
stony hillside facing the creek, once the stones are 
removed and the earth properly manured. For he 
has seen what Jacques Bonhomme and his husky 
wife can do with a patch of soil hardly sufficient 
for a self respecting back yard in the States; and 
he has seen the up-and-down vineyards of the 
Rhine. If he has no farm to go to, and still wants 
to try conclusions in that line, he intends to combine 
Yankee ingenuity and pep with European thorough- 
ness and kick a perfectly good living out of the 
acres open to homesteaders. 

If some branch of commercial enterprises en- 
grosses him he fairly itches to get home, having once 
seen what Europe needs and wants, and the idea of 
getting there first, and all the other plans of a busi- 
ness scrap bubble within him like wine. 

Everywhere the American soldier has gone, since 
the first of the expeditionary forces came over, Euro- 



30 HOME — THEN WHAT ? 

peans have remarked on his attitude towards women. 
There were times when men of the Allied armies 
laughed — always discreetly, be it remarked — be- 
cause the Yank, a man who would fight with his 
two doubled fists, and sometimes drank more cognac 
than was good for him, kept the other sex on a 
pedestal and was content to elevate his eyes when 
he addressed its members. The pedestal of Ameri- 
can womanhood will not be removed because of 
what the American enlisted man has seen in other 
countries. The Yank wants neither a beast of 
burden nor a brood mare of his woman, and existing 
conditions at home suit him beautifully. 

He has seen little towns in France with boxed 
trees before the cafes, and always a statue of some 
dead dignitary or other, or perhaps merely a bronze 
cast of a purely mythological character, and he won- 
ders if they can't do that sort of thing at home. Also 
he has ridden over the white hard roads and marvels 
that his progressive neighbours did not build high- 
ways as good long ago. Perhaps there will be fewer 
complaints about tax levies for worthwhile improve- 
ments after the last Yank is back in civies. 

Then there's the matter of food — not army chow 
— but the meals he ate in the leave centres, or some 
obscure town while on convoy, or travelling on one 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 31 

■ i 

of the endless trips an army outfit is always making; 
or perhaps when he was a.w.o.l. It was always well 
cooked and cleverly served, no matter how little of 
it there was. So he will not be satisfied with the 
blotting paper variety of pie crust and fried-to- 
death steak which he took as a matter of course from 
the lunch counters in the old days. And lastly, while 
he is for getting things done and over with, his days 
off in the leave areas have brought him to see how 
much enjoyment the European takes from his leisure 
hours, and this latter affair, which involves checking 
the breakneck speed of American everyday life, 
promises something interesting, if not effectual. 

Such are impressions as expressed by those in 
many branches of the service, in barrack and billet, 
from Brest to Coblenz, Summarised, perhaps, they 
might constitute something not so entirely different 
from the oath that the Athenian youth swore upon 
his assumption of citizenship. Ask the average 
Yank about the Ephebic oath and he will reply he 
knows nothing of it and cares less. Still, the gist of 
it lies in the back of his head whether or not he 
can give it definition. 



SECOND PRIZE 

Joshua B. Lee, 

Private Base Hospital 43, 
A.P.O. 713A. 
Home Address: Norman, Oklahoma. 

It is as noble to live for one's country as to die 
for it. There are those who merely live in their coun- 
try, others who live on their country, and still others 
who live against their country, but the patriot lives 
or dies for his country. Thousands have died for 
America but millions are left to live for her. Will 
those millions live as heroically for her as those 
thousands died for her*? 

The stumps that stand in a field are useless. They 
do not produce anything. They do not consume any- 
thing. They just sit there and spoil the field and 
aggravate the ploughman. They do not harm any- 
thing, they are just there, obnoxious things. The 
field were better if they were rooted up and thrown 
out. What would a field of nothing but stumps be 
worth*? There are human stumps. They take no part 
in community activities, they take no part in the 

Government, they never vote, they just live in their 

32 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 33 

„— a—— m« r— i — — »» i i n ii i i ir 

country. But the ex-soldier will be a vital part of 
his government because he has learned that his gov- 
ernment needs him no less than he needs his govern- 
ment. Men who offered their blood for their coun- 
try in time of war manifested an interest that will 
not wane with the signing of peace. 

Weeds are worse than stumps for they not only 
occupy space where grain might grow, but they are 
harmful to the field for they sap the strength from 
the soil. The man who never produces but always 
consumes is a human weed, be he rich or poor, high- 
brow or bum, if he does not work he lives on his 
country. If there are soldiers who think because of 
their service they should never have to do another 
day's work they should be quickly disillusioned. 
What we have done was our duty. The exoneration 
of America was our reward. As a bonus we have 
been accredited the place of hero in the hearts of 
our countrymen; and we are grateful, and it does 
not follow the lines of logical reasoning to suppose 
that the discharged soldier will join the idlers and 
become a burden to the country he fought for. 

Johnson grass is worse than stumps or weeds. It 
sends its roots deep into the field, sapping the 
strength and choking out the grain. But worse than 
that, like a contagious disease it spreads so rapidly 



34 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

I 

that it requires much labour and several attempts 
to destroy it. One rootlet can, in an incredibly short 
time, sod the whole field. There is a class of people 
who bear a striking similarity to this grass. Their 
propaganda spreads rapidly and is difficult to up- 
root. The American soldiers in France have watched 
the Bolsheviki in Russia with indignation, and will 
show less tolerance for the Bolsheviki in America. 

When three millions of men are discharged from 
the army and feel the freedom of civilian law as 
compared with the stern military regulations, it 
would naturally be supposed that so sudden a transi- 
tion would be accompanied by the inclination to 
overenjoy the new freedom. But we have realised 
that America will be to a large extent what the men 
who wore the O.D. make it. Therefore, after hav- 
ing fought for law and order, it would be knocking 
the bottom out of our own mess-kit to return to 
civilian life to raise hell. Is there a soldier who 
after seeing the army loves the mob, or after know- 
ing order enjoys chaos? 

From the vantage point of soldiers we have had 
a bird's-eye view of the nations of the earth. We 
have had a panoramic view of Europe from Russia 
to Italy and the more we see of the world the 
better we love America. Regardless of what our 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 35 



politics have been in the past our votes in the future 
will be controlled by one policy — America first. But 
let no one deceive himself, for every man who says, 
"noble heroes" and waves a flag need not expect our 
vote. We know what true patriotism is, we know 
what love of country means. We have fought for 
America and now do not propose to live against her. 

While soldiering our blood has reddened, our 
muscles have hardened. The tooth-brush, the daily 
drill, the regular meals, the smooth shave, the clean 
shirt, the daily bath, the easy footwear, have all 
played their part. We are heavier, we are taller, we 
are stronger, and returning, we will infuse the iron 
of our blood into the nation and give her vigour. 

We learned that filth and disease are the greatest 
enemies to mortal men. We know the importance of 
ventilation and drainage. We prefer the "pup tent" 
to the stuffy tenement cell. We are returning to 
practice what we have learned. As U. S. troops 
entered hundreds of French villages and cleaned 
them up just so will discharged soldiers return to 
every corner of America and apply the laws of 
sanitation. 

Not only that but we have become acquainted 
with ourselves. The lad from the North was the pal 
of the lad from the South, the chap from San Fran- 



86 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

cisco buddied with the boy from New York. Our 
world enlarged as we came to know each other. 
Acquaintance meant friendship, and what will this 
friendship mean to America when we return*? There 
will be a cross-firing of friendly letters such as 
never happened before. New bonds will draw us 
together, new interstate commerce will arise and the 
fabrics of the nation will be strengthened. 

Furthermore we felt our world broaden as we 
saw the hills of Ireland and Scotland, as we set foot 
for the first time on European soil, as we gradually 
learned their languages, their customs, their history. 
We have learned economy from the Frenchman, we 
have learned industry from the German, we have 
learned mechanical, electrical and civil engineering 
from experience. America shall have the benefit of 
our knowledge. 

Better yet we have learned where happiness is. 
We never knew how to appreciate mother's cooking 
until we lived on corn willie and hardtack. We did 
not know how to appreciate our homes until we had 
lived in French attics. We know now that the 
American girl is the queen of the universe. 

But best of all we found out how much we love 
America. Now that we have measured our govern- 
ment with the rest of the world we will make better 



HOME — THEN WHAT? ST 

citizens for we return more than satisfied. We hard- 
ly realised before just what our government meant 
to us but now we know. 

Ask us, then, what we will do when we get home? 
We will live for America. At the call to arms men 
dropped all other business, but now they return to 
take it up; from fighting to farming, from digging 
trenches to digging ore, from hauling munitions to 
hauling machinery, from filling sand-bags to filling 
flour sacks, from driving tanks to driving tractors, 
from supply office to mercantile business, from 
studying maps to practising law, from building bar- 
racks to building homes. 

What soldier, at some time, has not crawled into 
his bunk and pulled the blanket up over his head 
only to lie there wide awake and dream rosy dreams 
of the future ? In the recreation rooms the magazine 
pages that have pictures of cozy corners and neat 
little bungalows are thumbed and worn to tatters. 
Does that not hint as to the general trend of the 
A. E. F. mind 4 ? In the rain and chill of the winter 
months the soldier warmed himself with thoughts 
like these : he pictured himself sitting in a deep com- 
fortable chair before a cheerful fireplace where the 
blaze curled up the chimney and the shadows danced 
on the floor, a bayonet, a mess-kit, a shell, a helmet 



38 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

over the mantelpiece, and an inquisitive little boy 
upon his knee begging to be told the story of the 
Great World War. He pictured a woman singing at 
the piano, and a kitchen with "beaucoup eats," a 
kitchen that knew no limit, a kitchen where corn 
willie and hardtack should not enter. 

Where is the soldier whose pulse does not quicken 
at thought of a beautiful little cottage with morn- 
ing-glories trellised over the window, and a swing- 
ing seat on the porch, a fresh green lawn with 
pansies along the walk and roses in the garden, a 
car in the garage and a girlish little somebody to 
help enjoy it all? Whether we admit it or not we 
all alike have dreamed that same dream. It is the 
propeller of our lives. It was that dream that made 
us proud to come to France. It was going over that 
dream in our minds that shortened many a lonely 
hour on guard. It was that dream that turned our 
faces back toward the West the day the armistice 
was signed. 

What will we do when we return ? We will make 
our dreams come true. We will bring all that we 
have learned and lay it at America's feet, and in our 
vision for her we see waving fields and smiling val- 
leys. We see a landscape dotted with prosperous 
homes and beautiful cities, a landscape checkered 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 39 

with the best roads that modern engineering can 
construct. We see the arid regions irrigated and the 
swamps drained and the hitherto untouched re- 
sources pouring their quota into the arteries of com- 
merce. We see America as glorious in peace as she 
has been in war. 



THIRD PRIZE 

Geo. F. Hudson, 

Pvt. l cl. Co. D, 3rd Army Military Police Bn^ 
American Expeditionary Forces. 
Home Address: c/o Merchants Bank, 

Denver, Colorado. 

In the calendar of a soldier in the American Ex- 
peditionary Forces all things date from the point: 
"When I get home." This will be the brightest of 
red-letter days in his life, and thoughts of his home- 
coming have always been linked with plans for the 
future which would follow that great day. And now 
when their task is finished and thousands upon thou- 
sands of those crusaders, who reclaimed the fair 
fields of France and Belgium from the befouling 
touch of the Hun, stand upon the threshold of their 
re-entry into civil life, this question becomes im- 
minent and pervades the minds of all. 

Every soldier overseas has had ample time since 
the signing of the armistice for looking forward and 
planning his course, as soon as he has a chance to get 
into "civies" again, down to the last detail; and 

40 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 41 

there are as many sets of personal plans as soldiers in 
the Army. Old jobs are waiting, but many having 
had a taste of open air life, look back upon their 
former work as somewhat of a grind, and so plan 
for something different. They have lived the 
changeful life of the army and have decided that 
never again will office or store or bank hold them. 
Men who enlisted from the small towns and rural 
districts, having seen strange and wonderful sights 
and lived in a world of big events, realise the nar- 
rowness of their lives before the war, and there is 
a serious problem in the query of that popular song : 
"How are you going to keep the boys down on the 
farm after they've seen Paree*?" 

As soon as those discharge papers are safely 
tucked away in his pocket, every man intends to take 
a direct route for the old home town to see Dad 
and Mother and the rest of the family. And then 
too, there is his best girl — he looks forward to "fra- 
ternising" with her with no one to say "verboten." 
Surely she has a prominent place in his home-com- 
ing. He went to join the colours just at the time 
when in a few months he hoped to marry and start 
with her a new home — the kind of a home which 
abounds in our land and which is the bulwark of 
our nation; but the war and the draft suddenly 



42 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

changed all the future. He was called to the training 
camp and later crossed to the battle line of France. 
As he went forth in the early months of the war, 
"Not knowing whither he went," or even if it would 
ever be permitted to him to take the homeward path, 
her cheering letters, full of faith and hope and love, 
followed him to sustain and comfort his spirit. It is 
natural that in his personal plans for the future she 
holds the most prominent place, as he looks forward 
to going down that "long, long trail" with her. 

But how will the returning soldier conduct him- 
self in the broader relationships which appertain to 
civilian life*? He saw upon the battlefields of 
France what a mighty force the young manhood of 
America was when organised against a powerful, 
blood-thirsty foe, — a would-be assassin of civilisa- 
tion. Cannot and will not this co-operated manhood 
still maintain its powers and usefulness even after 
its constituents rejoin the army of civilians'? Every 
thoughtful and observant man realises that in the 
role of a civilian, he will be called to battle against 
powerful foes of free government which exist in the 
homeland. The young manhood of our country 
under efficient leadership, compelled the haughty 
Hun on a foreign soil to plead for mercy. It is 
true that the guns of the enemy are silenced and a 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 43 

^»— — ■ — — ^— — — — — ■— — ^^— — — — — — 

- 

France and Belgium are saved to civilisation in 
Europe but strenuous battles of peace are impending 
and problems are before us for solution, as import- 
ant as any that have been incident to the great 
conflict just passed. The soldier has tested his 
strength when co-operating with other men and has 
seen success, and the confidence gained thereby will 
be a decisive factor in the coming battles of civilian 
life. 

Love of country is no longer an abstract thing 
to the returning soldier. It has come to be a real and 
vital part of his life. Comparison of our own coun- 
try, its ideals and customs, with the countries of 
Europe and their manner of life has resulted in a 
new conception of patriotism, a new meaning to the 
word America and a deeper appreciation for the 
ideals and institutions which we hold dear. He will 
realise more than before the exalted place which 
woman holds in our American civilisation and will 
ever be a valiant champion for her in the main- 
tenance and enlargement of her rights. He will 
stand for the ideals of our land with reference to 
morality and sobriety. Any evil which threatens 
the sanctity of the home or the highest welfare of 
American citizenship will be met in conflict and 
overthrown. He has toiled, suffered and endured 



44 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

hardship for that country and the principles which 
it upholds and he will ever remain ready to engage 
in combat any threatening foe. 

In his personal relations with his fellow-men, 
there will be a marked change. He has seen men 
wounded; he has seen men die. He has seen the 
nobility which they can show under such conditions. 
And from all this a new view of life has evolved. On 
the march, in the billet, his constant and intimate as- 
sociation with other men has formed within his char- 
acter a kindlier feeling for humanity — a feeling of 
comradeship which is to direct his course as he again 
enters the varied activities of civilian life. 

He is going to stand for a square deal for the man 
who is oppressed and see that he gets it. The ques- 
tion of Cain which has come to us down through 
the ages of turmoil and unrest: "Am I my brother's 
keeper? 5 ' is going to receive a definite answer in 
terms of comradeship and brotherly love. 

And thus great lessons have come to the thought- 
ful man from his experiences in army life; lessons 
which will be with him through all the subsequent 
life and which will be reflected in all his opinions 
and activities. He will be a more zealous patriot, a 
worthier citizen, a truer friend of humanity. In all 
his relationships with men, a spirit of comradeship 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 45 

will pervade and guide his actions which will result 
in a saner, stronger and purer national life in our 
beloved America, beneath that battle-tried banner — 
the Stars and Stripes. 



Anonymous. 

For four long years the world has been shaken 
by the turmoil of a war far deeper in significance and 
results than any previous one. During this period 
men united themselves into a system that they might 
conquer militarism for the cause of humanity. 
Every individual before entering the service of his 
country debated its causes and his reasons for fight- 
ing. "To War and then what^" was the question 
which weighed upon the minds of the patriot, and 
in the final analysis he resolved to sacrifice his life 
and ambition for home and for country. Toward 
that goal our Allies and then ourselves fought and 
conquered a nation that had prepared intensively 
for five decades to gain dominion of the world. 

Amidst such important events in the history of 
the world, the soldier, the modest hero of it all, 
patiently awaits his return to civic life, having done 
his best as an infinitesimal part of a vast army. A 
period of transition is at hand. To go home is the 
uppermost thought in his mind. Home means more 

46 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 47 

than it ever did before. Most of the A. E. F. are 
now enjoying that which will fall heir to us as soon 
as our work overseas is completed. We are forming 
plans for the future. In the minds and hearts of all 
lurks this query: "Home and then what*?" To 
answer this for all would take a lifetime but know- 
ing the popular trend of the soldier's mind I am 
firmly convinced the majority will finish the ques- 
tion by asking, "What is my duty to myself, to my 
home, and my country*?" Does it suffice to say we 
have carried out the old slogan, "done our bit" *? Are 
we going back home to play a worse or better role 
in the drama of life with the world as a stage 4 ? 
Of course, the settings in our respective worlds still 
differ, but we are all human and it is easy to discuss 
a few common denominators the boys are thinking 
of both on land and sea. Upon the convictions, 
ideals and purposes of the A. E. F. will largely 
depend the future of our Democracy. Am I ready 
to represent such at home and have I duly fitted 
myself to take a part in the new regime of thought 
which is now flickering before the retina of men's 
minds'? This causes us to hold an introspection of 
mind, body and soul. After such scrutinisation we 
conclude that our duty to our individual selves as 
relative units, whatever pursuit we expect to follow, 



48 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

whatever obligations as a citizen we have, three 
fundamental duties demand immediate consid- 
eration. 

In the first place, our country demands health as 
a requisite of a loyal citizen. Upon its health de- 
pends its existence. Every soldier understands what 
health means in an army of fit fighting men. In 
returning to civilian life, can I afford not to be clean 
and healthy? Upon my physical status depends the 
number of days I work, how efficient I am in the 
doing of that work and the compensation I make for 
myself, my family and the economic world. An 
athlete carefully looks after his health. Whether 
employee or employer, it is just as important in per- 
forming the best services in any occupation that 
health should receive attention first. A diseased 
human machine cannot exist long in this age of com- 
petition. If I use alcohol to such an extent that it 
undermines the functions of my organs, weakens my 
brain power and causes me to lose a number of day's 
work annually, in production and a like deduction in 
my wage, am I not becoming an economic parasite*? 
If I am addicted to illicit sexual intercourse and con- 
tract a venereal disease which renders me useless as a 
wage earner for a period of time or inflicts me with 
a chronic disease for life, am I treating society on 



LOME — THEN WHAT? 49 



the square *? I owe my health to my family, for pos- 
terity swings back and forth on the health of pre- 
ceding generations. Who have had a better oppor- 
tunity to know the value of health and clean living 
than the A. E. F.*? A bigger social health pro- 
gramme comes from our war experience in France 
and everywhere men feel such as one of their essen- 
tial duties in civilian life. 

In the second place, America demands trained 
men, men who think, men who reason, men whose 
education is never completed. I will confront new 
problems in social, economic and political affairs 
which require better information and study. I am 
going to resume my former occupation. Am I 
mentally prepared*? Am I contented to follow it in 
the same rut with only a care for existence *? Initia- 
tive which hibernated so long under the yoke of 
daily army routine will see its shadow again. We 
cannot afford to let it lie dormant. We must seek 
improvement in skill and methods of work. If I am 
a farmer whose land returns to him a comfortable 
livelihood am I bettering myself or society as a pro- 
ducer by not becoming in modern phraseology, an 
agricultural engineer? If I am a day labourer, can 
I expect promotion or increase in my pay envelope 
doing an exact amount of work in proportion to my 



50 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

wage with my interest elsewhere*? If a professional 
man, am I to raise my scholarship, standards of work 
and reputation without constant study? If I were 
called away to war in the midst of my university 
course am I permitting the matter of time to over- 
balance my duty for efficient service? Such realisa- 
tions of my sense of duty in becoming better trained 
in my daily tasks will create a bigger interest for 
public obligations. Most of us are interested in 
politics but we are political derelicts in knowing the 
qualifications of our candidates and the purports of 
various measures. Have I been marking the ballot 
for the best interests of my family, my neighbours 
and my community? Do I vote a certain way be- 
cause it is popular, because of my own selfish inter- 
ests? In every locality we know such citizens. On 
a large scale Germany's politicians were selfish, forc- 
ing upon her people and politics such disrepute that 
the coming generations must make right with the 
world. Are we going home to set up a little Prussia? 
As soldiers, we battled with selfishness in the rank 
and file of men. In a marked degree we have 
learned to toss it aside for the good of all. To 
that end it is our task to urge the masses to become a 
more intelligent voting constituency. We must keep 
alert to equal the woman at the polls. Our political 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 51 

machinery will seek reorganisation and our states- 
men will be broader thinkers because the purest ideal 
of our American nation — the American woman — 
will consider her new privilege as a civic duty. 

Lastly, am I morally fit to resume my relations 
at home 4 ? What standard of morals does public 
opinion demand? I have been absent from my pre- 
war environment. I hesitate to prophesy what an 
individual would become with incessant war. Be- 
ginning with the age of prehistoric man, people have 
possessed a standard of morals. They have occupied 
different planes, the Crusades, the French Revolu- 
tion, the Civil War point out a few epochs in the 
gradual climb towards better civilisation. And now, 
this world war has raised it to a higher plane. 
Morality has taken to aviation. The aims of this 
war are essentially moral and religious. In our daily 
army life such did not vividly show, yet it was 
deeply rooted under the surface. We seemed to 
become hardboiled with a determination to win at 
any cost. In the madness of war personal morals 
were often neglected. But, beneath it all, each God- 
fearing soldier was forming the foundation of a 
deeper moral conviction. Now, that it is over my 
conscience awakens in me my duty to my Mother, my 
country, and my God. Reputation now puts a larger 



52 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

valuation on my character. Past experiences either 
net profit or loss. In no small way, our experiences 
overseas prepare us to take up the responsibilities 
of a new citizenship, a new home and a new democ- 
racy. In the association of rich with poor, in the 
co-operation of strong powers with the weak, a new 
life and a new world is being born. As comrades in 
service we have learned to be courageous, unselfish, 
humble and loyal with a new vision. Our devotion 
to the cause of humanity, our willingness to die has 
or will render in us a great moral decision. The way 
we apply it in these days of peace will prove how 
thoroughly a Victory was won and how well we face 
our new phase of duty to ourselves, our homes and 
our nation. Our country calls us home to assume 
the controlling forces in all walks of life. Upon 
every member of the A. E. F. falls a responsibility 
to do his share in shaping the destinies of our nation 
in this new era of world wide democracy. 



II 

Newton S. Bement, 
604 E. Madison St. 

Ann Arbor, Michigan, U.S.A. • 

NOTE: This is not an essay; it has neither unity nor 
coherence. It is not an attempt at studied discussion of 
some particular point of contemporary interest; it is merely 
a collection of remarks which might bear repetition to a de- 
mobilized A. E. F. In case of participation in prizes, re- 
quested that such be turned over to a French war-orphans' 
fund.— N. S. B. 



Well, why not be a hero? The idea tickles the 
vanity quite deliciously. And it will hardly be im- 
possible as long as there are mothers, and sisters, 
and younger brothers especially. Likewise there are 
happy states of existence permeated by tables done 
in white linen, and civilised methods of consuming 
food, and untenanted sleeping apparatus, and even 
porcelain bathing ware. But, after your little home- 
coming celebration and vacation, — what next? 

Your American answer is, quite naturally, 
Work. Undoubtedly you are better fitted for suc- 
cess than ever before; you are bringing home a 

53 



54 HOME — THEN WHAT? 



keener mind than you took away. Whatever injus- 
tices were inflicted upon you in the army, upon de- 
mobilisation you will have left them behind with 
their causes. Remember that it was an instrument 
designed avowedly to cure those addicted to its 
use and rejoice that it succeeded even in its own 
case. You held up your hand and said, "I do." And 
you did; you learned some tricks which will never 
have to be taught you again. But you went through 
it, and now you are at liberty to satisfy your appe- 
tite for a peaceful life. 

But is that all ? By having been a member of the 
A. E. F. you have acquired responsibilities of which 
you may or may not be aware. First, to America; 
secondly, to France. You are the instructor of the 
people about you; they are going to look to you 
for information as coming from first-hand contact 
with our allies. If you hold fancied grievances 
against them, will you make that a basis for turning 
your neighbour against them as a nation 4 ? Or if you 
have only pleasant remembrances, will you listen 
neutrally to unjust talk from another? Americans 
have allowed extremely minute .things to prejudice 
them. High prices, for example. Yet these were in 
part the American's own fault ; he showed too much 
money, spent too freely, and the mass suffered for 



HOME— -THEN WHAT? 55 

■ ' " ■ " " i ■ ■! 

»• ' ■ ■- — •■■ - — — ■ — ■ — — ■■ — ... i ■ ■ — . * 

the acts of the individual. Again, he couldn't expect 
to be the exception to a rule which has held through 
all time for any army on foreign soil; the same 
thing happened to some French soldiers in America, 
long ago. Furthermore, I never paid higher prices in 
Paris than I did for the same article in Augusta, 
Georgia. The love of "sticking" a man in uniform 
seems to be inherent in all humanity. 

Another example of causes for prejudice, demon- 
strated in a letter which I recently received: "My 
cousin has just returned from France, and has told 
me many interesting things about it. However, I 
am disappointed too. I never knew of its abomin- 
able morals — my honour to France is somewhat 
lessened by what I now know." The American 
mind, I believe, connects that word "morals" more 
or less with women. Perhaps the aforementioned 
cousin had been solicited. But the question is beside 
the point as long as his own morals remain intact, — 
it takes two to make a bargain. Evidently he 
thought the women of the boulevards were the 
women of France. Or, he may have been thinking of 
wine, a subject on which there is nothing to say 
except that we are simply different — and extremists. 
The French will never understand why we can't 
make one glass last a whole evening, or why we had 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 



the habit of hiding behind the swinging doors while 
we took it. 

To gain understanding, the fundamental necessity 
is to realise that the French are a product of a his- 
tory, of traditions, of a civilisation entirely different 
from ours. Understanding them comes only through 
living with them, by being received into their fam- 
ilies. It is there that you get at the roots of a nation. 
Regrettably, this chance has been open to but a few 
of the A. E. F., the rest have had to judge from the 
surface or the casual passer-by of the street. The 
real French regret this as much as we regret that 
the conduct of some of our Americans left impres- 
sions difficult for the rest of us to change. To con- 
tinue; we call them unpractical, and laugh at them; 
they call us too practical, and laugh in their turn. 
Their daily life is more naive than ours. They 
call a spade a spade, which shocks our American 
ears. From the rush of affairs they reserve a little 
time for self-seeking — we are too busy for that. 
Both find their happiness, but in different manner. 
Each must interpret the other in the light of his 
aims and ideals. As for which really lives the more 
worth-while life, that question is for the individual 
to answer when he will have arrived at its end. 
Meantime it is the duty of the homecoming A. E. F. 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 57 

to render to America that information which will 
permit our allies to be appreciated as a people. 
Therein grow the only true and lasting friendships 
between nations. The true French — the ones who 
think and act and carry something behind the eyes 
— have done their best to understand, as the soldier 
representatives of a great people, those Americans 
with whom they have come into contact. It remains 
for these same Americans, returning home, to do as 
well in representing France to an America which 
relies upon them for its impressions. 

And now, our responsibility to America. This 
settling down business looks from afar much like a 
hive of tame bees trying to absorb a swarm of 
nomads. Each must light about so many times be- 
fore he sticks. But the period will soon pass; it is 
a question of guiding production back into the 
smoother pre-war channels. Possibly the industrial 
machine needs a general overhauling. Whatever it 
needs it will get, as fast as the real sources of creaks 
and rattles are discovered. But each one to his post, 
and the old mill will still turn out profits. 

Last and most, there is another war to .finish. 
This is going to be a nice pleasant war because we 
know in advance just what it's all about. It was 
once stated that we should have peace if we had to 



58 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

M IIIMI.II.II II i n . ■ ii.iiii -m». i nii—r I l a— — 

fight for it. That remark, one may believe, was 
aimed directly at Europe. It seems now that all 
charity should end at home, whether it begins there 
or not. You served two years. Some of that time 
you spent in the trenches, or in front of them; per- 
haps you left your best buddie there. Or, you were 
behind the lines working seven days of the week and 
often nights. What for*? Peace. Have you got it? 

The greatest thing that America has gained in this 
combat is a national consciousness. We were flung 
by circumstances into a path leading to a real na- 
tional unity; and now, regrettably, the path seems 
to end in an unblazed trail. Is there any group 
better fitted than the A. E. F. to continue the blaz- 
ing? Has any one been able to acquire a better 
perspective of the wilderness through which we must 
pass while the country changes from centralised 
back to local control ? — and while it decides on some 
questions which demand new -solutions never before 
considered? 

First, "America for Americans" — if there ever 
again will be a time to make America a good place 
for Americans, that time is now. What about im- 
migration? Isn't the time for pocket-filling about 
past ? We might want to raise a family of our own, 
some day. And aren't we about old enough to cast 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 59 



aside our childhood toy, the famous "melting pot,'' 
and give its contents a chance to solidify 4 ? Again, 
what about our hyphenated Americans? Yes, plenty 
of them have destroyed the hyphen forever but there 
are still enough who have simply laid it away in 
cold storage. Will you go on tolerating them? I 
knew a woman who flaunted her pro-Germanism in 
the public face by refusing to allow the American 
flag to fly above her house. She was not dangerous. 
I cite her merely as evidence. The local administra- 
tion was shouting lustily for home and country and 
allies, but strangely it took no positive steps in this 
case. In that district, the real American population 
formed a minority. There are many similar ones, 
where the hyphen will come out of cold storage as 
soon as the storm is nicely blown over. Stop immi- 
gration for a couple of generations, and the causes 
for such conditions may die a natural death. Mean- 
while you've got to live consciously and with your 
eyes open and memory working, if you're going to 
weed out the propaganda. And if you don't, you 
have lost everything that you fought for in France. 
What, then, is your part? In civilian life every 
ex-A. E. F. man is a three-striper. After your sacri- 
fice, the people are ready to look to your leadership 
a little, to believe that your motives are honest. 



60 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

You are a power; you can make your own little 
propaganda for a peace in unity at home, and put it 
over. Set the example ; form your company and start 
policing up your home district. A company to each 
ex-member of the A. E. F. means an army for unity, 
peace and prosperity, extending from coast to coast, 
and the beginning of a firmer, greater nation. 

Home — and then what*? Many will answer: 
"The truth about the army." But no; forget it, it's 
been overdone already. There's enough hysteria 
now without adding more. Show that you are one 
of the most conscious citizens in a newly conscious 
nation. Utilise the advantages of your experience 
and perspective to make it a nation wherein there 
shall exist not only an economic, industrial or com- 
mercial smoothness, but also a real rock-ribbed na- 
tional unity as among men who know what they 
want — and intend to have it. 



Ill 

Roy E. B. Bower, 
Pvt. Med. Dept., 
A.P.O. 949, 
A.E.F. 

Home Address: 308 W. 137th St., 
New York City. 

Home — Then What? Why then a week of get- 
ting acquainted with neckties, garters, cuff-links, 
Childs restaurants, twenty-page newspapers, prohi- 
bition, baths, alarm-clocks, English-speaking women, 
and other commonplaces unknown to us now. The 
first time we walk out in a civilian suit we'll be as 
self-conscious as on that day when Mother saw you 
in khaki and said: "Couldn't you get a better fit, 
dear?' 

For a week we'll simply get used to being civil- 
ians. We'll go around recognising old friends — pay- 
as-you-enter cars, soda-fountains, tooth-brush adver- 
tisements- — we'll begin to feel at home again in 
clean cities, where there are broad sidewalks, no 
urinals on street corners, houses open to sunlight 
and air, gardens in front for every one to enjoy, 
where civic sanitation and personal health are com- 

61 



62 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

munity ideals. The end of this will quite likely be 
comparison with the European life we know, and our 
national pride, already puffed-up, is apt to become 
arrogance. But oh, with what absolute sincerity, 
born of experience, can we say : "Thank God I'm an 
American!" 

We will wander about in this mood which those 
who didn't come across can only half-understand, 
for several days. It will dawn upon us that we are 
more enthusiastic citizens of the United States than 
ever before, and our reasons will be definite. We 
like American ways, American people — nothing 
needs to be explained — we feel at home. But here, 
pause a moment. What sort of fellows are we *? The 
army has done us great good and much harm ; which 
is predominant, and how will it affect your coming 
years *? 

Every nation pets its soldiers, calls them "the 
boys," feeds them candy as if every day were Christ- 
mas, entertains them, gives them paper to write 
home, and relieves them of what little thinking the 
army lets them do for themselves. Now America 
has taken two million grown men of twenty to 
thirty away from civilian responsibilities, fed and 
clothed and then transported them to Europe, sup- 
ported dependent relatives at home, required not 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 63 

. . > 

one moment's initiative from them, and has, instead, 
babied them like spoiled children. 

At times most of these young men have been 
called upon to display the utmost of manly fortitude 
and courage. But that is all over now. We are "the 
boys" again, being spoiled all the worse because of 
our success in obeying orders, and our sacrifice dur- 
ing these months of heart-breaking struggle when 
our pluck finally won the great game. This attitude 
of the folks at home will remain for awhile after 
discharge. For a short while. 

The real test will come when the novelty has 
worn off. You can gauge this period by remarking 
the day you can complain of hot-cakes or ice-cream. 
You are free — to obey a hundred calls of responsi- 
bility the army has taught you to neglect. You 
either go back to your old job or you don't, in either 
case you are inevitably drawn into the machine 
which grinds all the harder when there are armies to 
support. You've got to take up your burden, there's 
no getting around it — unless you go back into the 
army or write a best-seller on your experience in No 
Man's Land. 

There are some who will write best-sellers and, 
oh miserable souls, there are some who will stay in 
the army. Suppose we put aside these, and a certain 



64 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

number of those who came across the better to dis- 
cuss the rest. A sprinkling, a few thousand maybe, 
will go home and take up all things where they left 
them. These are the people who have brains but 
resent being made to use them. Quite likely there 
are some of the opposite type who suppose that life 
will be utterly different now that they have killed 
(supposedly) a few Germans. This kind will form 
clubs to discuss After the War — What*? and The 
Seven Stomached Beast of Revelations. But the 
common run of us, however we differ as individuals, 
share our state of mind as a result of having been 
part of the A. E. F. 

What do we think of it? Nothing consciously, 
that's just the point. People do write articles about 
us, explaining to us that we will come back changed, 
some say more gentle, some say more savage; other 
people preach sermons either warning us of our new 
duty now that our eyes are opened, or warning our 
stay-at-home relatives p| their duty to "those lads 
who have fought and bled for the noblest and so 
on!" But no amount of words can define a thing 
that only deeds can prove exists. 

As for us, our question "Home, then what*?" 
merely means "What job 4 ?" We don't stop to figure 
out our future as a citizen, or write down our duties 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 65 

! ' — 1 

or ideals of community life. Who consciously com- 
pares the life he might have led with the one he is 
planning now? Except for the prosaic matter of 
what sort of work he does, no one thinks about it. 
This exception of what job he takes is important, but 
not of the greatest importance. For after all, if you 
leave your old occupation and try something new — 
the war has at least given us all a good chance to 
change if we want to — you will be the same sort of 
person with the same strength and weakness of char- 
acter in either job. 

The effect of your experiences in the trenches or 
hospitals, or wherever you were and felt and saw the 
fine emotions which the crisis of war brings to the 
surface, will not show in your choice of a job, but 
how you handle it. It won't matter if you settle in 
the country or come to the city, what matters is how 
you bring up your sons. 

Then since you are only slightly conscious of 
the new springs of action which impel your life 
along new channels, what are the motives "in the 
back of your head" that have changed your charac- 
ter while you were busy eating Salvation Army 
doughnuts ? 

One concrete example first. You spend an eve- 
ning with Nenette's parents, the idea being to get 



66 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

on the good side of Pere Guichard. Nenette remains 
demurely in the corner and adores you, remarking 
to herself that you speak much better French alone 
with her than when you try to tell her father about 
America. Anyway, you explain that in our villages 
the cows are stabled in barns, not in the next room. 
That people bathe once a week and oftener and 
don't die from it. That brushing the teeth is a 
national habit, even among the less fastidious male 
sex. That we sleep with the windows open all night. 
That we discourage smoking in boys, and are dis- 
gusted with it in women. That the country thought 
so poorly of alcohol that we are about to do away 
with it entirely. Pere Guichard, who has had no 
teeth since he was forty, dreads a draft, learned to 
drink alcohol when he was three, and doesn't care if 
his street is dirty as long as his kitchen is clean, 
thinks you and America are an insufferable prig. 
But do you"? Why instead you are bragging. You 
will go back home with firmer ideas than ever on 
civic sanitation, personal cleanliness, and public 
morals. 

Let us sum up in outline from the effect the A. E. 
F. experience has had on you. True, most French- 
men are happier, more satisfied, than Americans, but 
is not discontent the secret of progress ? First then 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 67 



you will compare life in Europe with life at home. 
Two main thoughts occur to you. Civic responsi- 
bility and personal cleanliness. Under the first you 
will realise that things which at home are axioms, 
here are novelties. This will carry you to the 
election booth on matters of civic pride. Under the 
second you will realise with pride the virtue of 
cleanliness, ultra-fastidiousness is no crime. Again 
you will vote wisely on tobacco, liquor, venereal 
disease laws. 

The second large effect of the A. E. F. on you 
is the one the article writers at home dwell on (for 
that reason I only mention it) . Why go into detail ? 
We all know the effect of our self-sacrifice for in- 
tangible ideals, the quickening of the spirit for the 
other fellow, the virtue of patience under suffering. 
We have been made men by it. 

Yet — who has not read George Bernard Shaw's 
preface to "John Bull's Other Island" % Do so, and 
you will find to-day's soldier described. So there 
are those for whom the question "Home — Then 
What?' means simply failure. Because I do not 
think these are many I will not hesitate here — it is 
a warning, no more. 

We are a country of Faith. So then the con- 
clusion. We have broken from old ways, paying for 



68 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

the privilege by turning over to the army our respon- 
sibilities. Again we face life's burdens. We shall 
conquer such habits as are not good, we shall be 
armed with braver spirits, more determined civic 
pride, deeper love of our nation, we shall win out. 
The war has done this for us. Home? Why then, 
home with all the fine things the word means to us, 
with the power now to keep them fine. The war has 
made us citizens of the world, as such we will be 
the prouder citizens of our nation. Home then, and 
America ! 



IV 

Lawrence L. Cassidy, 
Ordnance Sergeant, 

Audit & Property section, O.C.O.O., 

Mehun-sur-Yvre via A. P. O. 741, 
A. E. F. 
Home Address: 161 East 49th Street, 
New York City, New York, 
U.S.A. 

The very mention of the word "Home" brings to 

the mind of the soldier in the A. E. F., patiently 

awaiting his return to the land of his choice, 

thoughts, memories and pictures which can never be 

effaced and which seem to grow more vivid as his 

separation continues. Wherever one travels, be it 

among those engaged in the new Watch on the 

Rhine, those awaiting the word which is to bring 

them to their ship, those occupied with the manifold 

duties of the S. O. S. or those enjoying for a few 

days a much appreciated leave in France, England 

or Italy, he finds one thought predominating in the 

minds of the soldiers he meets and when he questions 

them relative to conditions, they reply with their 

invariable question "When are we going Home?" 

69 



TO HOME — THEN WHAT? 



No matter what their duties or their obligations 
every activity is aimed toward the one goal, their 
return to America, the land of their birth, the home 
of their pride and the zone of their ideals. Flash 
on a screen a picture of the Statue of Liberty; sing 
a tune such as "Homeward Bound," "My Little 
Gray Home in the West," "Take Me Back to New 
York Town," "Indiana," or "Back Home in Ten- 
nessee" ; or picture some scene recognisable as a sight 
familiar to American life and note the expressions 
on the faces of your soldier audience. Watch them 
as they receive mail from home telling of relatives, 
friends and associates who have returned and once 
more are resuming the life interrupted when the 
fiendish Hun dared place his selfish ambitions before 
every principle of right, justice and liberty. Study 
him as he writes to Mother, Wife or Sweetheart. 
Do one or any of these things and you learn what 
Home means to these boys who willingly gave up all 
when the call came but who did so only because their 
honour, their sense of justice and their duties to their 
country demanded it. They have concluded that 
work and now want to return Home — Home to 
loved ones, friends, associates and business, ever to 
remain until they have completed their work and 
are called to the everlasting life beyond the grave. 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 71 

UHH i n i ■— ^— » ■ ■ n il— m^ 

To the man really appreciative of his Home, 
every ambition of life is centred in that direction. 
His plans, hopes and dreams are all centralised in 
the ideal that the consummation of his activities 
might make life easier, happier and more worth 
while for those he loves. Unless he be a selfish ego- 
tistical miser, and history records but few of such, 
he hopes for success and works for progress always 
with the aim that his efforts might, even though in 
a small measure, reciprocate for the encouragement, 
patience, forbearance and love ever shown in his 
Home. Thus it is that you find him reflecting 
seriously on the duties he is to perform, the obli- 
gations he is to assume and the results he is to 
accomplish when he again crosses the threshold. His 
separation has given him many opportunities for 
introspection and now he knows himself better and 
is more ready to assume his proper sphere. Let us 
follow him to-day as he builds his "Chateaux en 
Espagne." 

The first stage of his thoughts takes the natural 
form of a period of retrospection in which he reviews 
his previous Home life and compares it with what it 
should have been had he properly fulfilled the obli- 
gations he now knows were his due. Probably one 
of the most important lessons taught him during his 



12 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

J 

period of service has been that from which he has 
learned to know himself. Prior to this period when 
he was literally thrown on his own resources, he 
had never appreciated what a dependent being he 
really was. Before this, while surrounded by the 
encouraging assistance and guiding influence of his 
Home, he assumed an independent station of life 
and pursued his activities with the conviction that 
whatever success accompanied his efforts resulted 
solely from his individual ability. Separated from 
his Home and the encouraging forbearance ever 
shown him there, he realises how much he needs 
those who love him and how much he owes them. 
As a result, he will return to them more determined 
to be worthy of their confidence and their esteem. 
He will strive to make his Home happier for those 
whom he now has learned to appreciate more and 
will diligently work to overcome the failings he 
formerly manifested and which brought so much 
unhappiness to his family. 

The effect of the new life he manifests in his 
Home will be further reflected in his country. No 
nation is stronger than its backbone, and the back- 
bone of the nation of to-day consists of an infinite 
number of vertebrae, the families from which that 
nation has grown. The consciousness which he 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 73 



developed of the obligations due his Home will be 
continued in the consideration of the obligations due 
his country. He is returning Home as a man ready 
to fulfill his every obligation and assume his every 
responsibility. His period in the military service 
has made him an integral factor in the activities of 
his country and an ardent enthusiast of its principles 
and ideals. He has been brought directly into con- 
tact with one of his greatest projects and this has 
resulted in a keener insight of matters referring to 
the national growth and development. He has been 
keenly awakened to the questions of the day and is 
carrying back with him opinions, suggestions, ambi- 
tions and ideals which are to be developed as he 
assumes the same interest in civilian life that he 
did during military life. And his word must and 
will be considered seriously. He is typical of the 
type of American citizen into whose hands will be 
delivered the future of our country. The experience 
he has gained through his communion with men 
from all sections of the land, his observance or study 
of life as it progresses in European countries and the 
general knowledge he has gained make him admir- 
ably fit to bear his share in the great problems of 
the future. 

His return to the land for which he made his 



74 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

sacrifice will be accompanied by a zeal, an enthusi- 
asm and a spirit of devotion which will be reflected 
in a higher grade of patriotism than America has 
ever known before. "Absence makes the heart grow 
fonder," says the adage and well do we see this 
exemplified in the American Expeditionary Forces. 
As you meet the American soldier in France, Italy, 
or Germany, ask him of his opinion of that country. 
He will admit that he has found some things of 
interest and that the particular country deserves 
some credit for certain achievements but invariably 
he will then commence to glowingly dilate on His 
country — "God's Country." And what does that 
mean? Perhaps you will say his enthusiasm is 
simply the natural result of the relationship of his 
country to his Home. Even were this so, he is bound 
to bear a more devoted allegiance to his country if 
only for the reason that his Home prospers accord- 
ing as his country develops. But his patriotism is 
more deep-rooted than that. The history of the past 
two years in which America has stood foremost 
among the nations of the world has made the 
American citizen appreciate the present respon- 
sibility of his country and the future obligations she 
will be called upon to meet. He is proud of that 
position and ambitious of doing everything in his 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 75 

power to advance her cause. He knows how Amer- 
ica is looked up to by the people of the other coun- 
tries with whom he has come in contact and he feels 
that if it is to continue to be so, he must do his 
share in the work necessary to this end. 

The interest of the returning soldier citizen will 
not only be a general national interest but will also 
be particularised in the affairs pertaining to the 
further progress of his own village, town, city or 
state. He has met men from all sections of our 
broad land; from them, he has learned of successful 
experiments and of policies which have resulted in 
failure and disaster and he has been brought into 
contact with the methods of hitherto unknown coun- 
tries. As he has studied these things, his thoughts of 
Home have caused him to reflect and consider 
their possible effect on his country. When he re- 
turns, therefore, his mind will be filled with these 
things and his renewed interest in the future progress 
and development of his country will cause him to 
give expression to the opinion he has gathered. The 
coming age is to be a period of reconstruction, a 
stage of initiative and an era of progress and the 
new interest of the soldier citizen will be an im- 
portant factor in the progress of the future. 

The third duty which will follow from the sol- 



76 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

dier's home-coming and the one which stands in a 
logical sequence to the duties he owes to his home 
and his country, is the duty to himself. His period 
in the service has been a period of maturity and he 
is now anxious to take his part in the activities of 
his station of life. If he has had sufficient fore- 
sight, he has taken advantage of the many oppor- 
tunities to better himself and is to-day better equip- 
ped than ever before. His absence from the scene of 
his earlier labours has whetted his ambition and he 
will return to his work with increased enthusiasm. 
He realises that because of the broadening expe- 
rience he has gained much is expected of him 
and he wants to and will maintain the required 
standard. 

Morally his sense of right and justice has been 
developed, his principles have been strengthened and 
his belief in tolerance and respect of the rights of 
others extended. As a result of the trying times he 
spent during the bloody days of battle, he has given 
much thought to the day when he will have con- 
cluded his work in this world and pass to a land 
eternal. He has learned to appreciate also that life 
in the World of the future is to be gauged by his 
actions in this life and that to be worthy of the 
reward of a future life of happiness, he must now 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 77 

conduct himself in conformity with the highest prin- 
ciple of truth, honesty, morality, justice and virtue. 
He appreciates, therefore, that he must establish a 
standard in his daily activities which will conform 
to these principles and make him worthy of the 
reward. If you talk to him in this connection, you 
will first find him repentant for the errors he has 
made in the past and resolved that not only 
shall these be blotted out in the future but his 
further actions act as an antidote for those of the 
past. 

Thus will the terrible catastrophe which has 
brought so much pain and anguish, misery and deso- 
lation, sorrow and unhappiness to the world at the 
same time bring a new era of peace, happiness and 
progress. From the Pagan lands of the ancient Sultan 
to the land of the ever struggling but constantly 
faithful Frangois, from the land of the setting sun to 
the home of the defeated Hun, from one end of the 
globe to the other, the people have been awakened to 
a keener insight of their duties, their possibilities and 
their obligations. Before the world lies an age of 
reconstruction, a period of initiative and a time of 
interest. Idle will be the citizen who does not 
measure up to the required standard and negligent 
will be the people who heed not the voice of those 



78 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

who successfully emerged from the period of trial 
with a greater knowledge and a broader experience. 
In no place more than our own America will this be 
more typically exemplified. Of all the nations, we 
to-day stand pre-eminent carrying with that position 
a host of new responsibilities which can not and 
must not be gainsaid. 

The responsibilities incumbent on our country 
during the period of the great crisis have been re- 
flected in the diversified interest of the people, new 
industries have sprung up over night, older develop- 
ments have been entirely reorganised and everywhere 
a new enthusiasm and a more general occupation 
have resulted. This will continue and the man who 
is to occupy a topmost part in this new life is he who 
has learned from the experience gained during his 
service in the A. E. F. To-day he may not be cogni- 
sant of his future but to-morrow he will come forth 
and take his stand. Let us recognise his worth and 
hasten to extend the hand of encouragement which 
will result in success and happiness not only to him 
but to us; his family, his friends and his compatriots. 
But if we listen not to his voice or heed not his exam- 
ple, it will go to peoples worthier than we, for as the 
sun after sinking beneath the horizon leaves nothing 
but gloom, so the light of encouraging initiative, on 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 70 



departing, will be followed by the darkness and 
chaos of anarchy and Socialism, harbingers of chains 
of slavery and of barbarism. 



V 

Wm. J. Chipman, 

Serg. Hdq. Del:., 1st Replacement Depot, 
A.P.O. 727, A.E.F. 
Home Address: 239 W. 103rd St., 

New York. 

We are all going home — sometime. Perhaps we 
have had too much time since the eleventh of last 
November in which to let our minds dwell upon that 
subject; perhaps we have built too many fairy 
castles that are too perfect ever to come true; per- 
haps we have formed entirely too many plans for 
our future. But, at all events, we are going home; 
and it is my fear that the cynical observation about 
the realisation not being half as pleasant as the ex- 
pectation will be all too true. 

It most certainly is not my intention to try to cast 
a wet blanket over our home-going enthusiasm; but 
I am afraid that many of us, like myself, have 
painted our futures in too brilliant colours ; and that 
we ought to wake up and analyse what is ahead 
of us. 

Again — we are going home. Be it Boston or 
Birmingham or New York or New Orleans, we are 

80 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 81 

going there. Even though it be only Owensboro or 
Kankakee, we are going. 

And there will be the expected welcome (America 
has not forgotten the war entirely). The smaller 
our home town, the more general will the welcome 
be. But with the initial flush of home-coming over, 
our minds will revert to more serious thought — ; 
thoughts that may never have presented themselves 
while we were in France. 

The most of us will begin to hunt for a job (or a 
position, if you prefer to designate it as such). For 
what kind of a situation are we going to seek? 

All of us are going to have a fight against letting 
our ambition carry us away. I am afraid that all of 
us are going to try to locate positions that are ab- 
normally better than those which we left. What are 
we going to find? 

We ought to thank all things holy that we live 
in the United States where labour and economical 
difficulties are at the irreducible minimum; but we 
must realise that that irreducible minimum is pres- 
ent, and that it is liable to cause some unrest. 

We have only to refer to history to realise that 
there has been attendant upon every demobilisation, 
from Biblical times down to the present, a demoral- 
ised economic condition. Inflated finances, going 



82 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

back to their normal level, create fictitious values 
throughout our entire business and industrial fabric. 
Consequently, even in a country as strong financially 
as ours, there must be a certain amount of unrest. 

There is no reason why we should not be able to 
secure our old jobs again, if we want them; and we 
have every opportunity to secure better ones. But 
we must not be unreasonable in our demands. 

Naturally, all of us want to place ourselves in 
positions that are better than those we left, if pos- 
sible. That is a quite commendable instinct. It is a 
human instinct, and, even more, it is an American 
instinct. But, even so, we must throttle our ambi- 
tion into the proper channel, and settle down and 
choose an objective intelligently. 

That lack of any objective is apt to prove most 
disastrous to many of us. The free and easy life of 
the army (even including all of its hardships) has 
fostered a shiftless, hand-to-mouth spirit, and there 
is too much probability that we shall be willing to 
take things as they come when we get home. 

If you were a banker before the war, try first to 
go back to a bank. If you were a hod-carrier, start 
at it again, and try to carry one better and more 
efficiently than the next man. But set an objective 
for yourself and strive to achieve it. 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 83 



The war has shot Northern France up rather effi- 
ciently: but it has not changed the habits of the 
world in general. Despite the fifty thousand Amer- 
icans that lie cold in the valley of the Meuse, we 
shall find, when we get back home, that the war has 
made no material difference in the business methods 
of our country. 

It will be hard, after the glamour of the army, to 
resign ourselves to settling down anywhere — let 
alone in some small town. But that is just exactly 
what we must do, if we hope to go through the 
period of reorganisation with the minimum of fric- 
tion. 

After travelling from San Francisco to Coblenz, 
it may be hard to settle down in Oakland and pursue 
some undramatic and uninteresting course of busi- 
ness ; but that is what we must do. We must not let 
the wander-lust grip us, or we will all be riding side- 
door Pullmans before the end of two years. 

You are going home — let us suppose that it is 
Charleston, West Virginia. Let us suppose further 
that you drove a butcher's waggon in Charleston, 
and that, by some freak of fate, you were a regi- 
mental adjutant during the war. 

When you get back there, you will be welcomed 
by Bill Smith, who owns the butcher shop, and by 



84 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

i 

your family and friends, and by other more or less 
well-known local dignitaries; but there won't be 
any fresh paint on the butcher's waggon, and the 
old mare may still be limping. Nevertheless the 
butcher may have been kind enough to save your 
job for you, and if he has, take it. 

We have had too much time in which to dream; 
but there is no reason why we should not get along 
as well as we did before the war, or better if we 
are only able to think instead of dream. We are 
going home — and we ought to be glad. 



VI 

Richard V. Fealy, 

Sgt. 1 c. 170th Aero Squadron, 
Camp Pontanezen, A.P.O. 716. 
Home Address: St. Helena, 

California. 

The "tin-horns" have told the folks at home the 
story from their point of view. Boys, they want 
political jobs or notoriety. We will not take issue 
with them on the point that America's force did 
bring about the "finish" on November llth; we 
know too much about the A. E. F. to deny America 
that credit. But if our efficiency in governmental 
departments be gauged according to the standard of 
American business institutions instead of by com- 
parison with the corresponding departments of other 
governments — what is the ratio of cost and accom- 
plishment? 

Have we, as soldiers, had experiences in the States 
and "Over here" that will enable us to be better 
citizens when we return to civilian life*? Are we, 
those of us who, by our age, have enjoyed the priv- 
ilege of voting, going back to the ruts that we came 
out of when we wanted to "do our bit" for the 

85 



86 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

country; the governmental departments of which we 
knew so little because we, like a flock of sheep, fol- 
lowed a leader to the polls'? Or will we assume the 
responsibility that is ours and contribute (by partic- 
ipation) to the "Government of the people, by the 
people, for the people"? 

Are you, the lads who have attained your majority 
since you entered the service, going to make the same 
mistakes that we "old timers" must confess*? Or 
shall we all forget our army slogan, "Pass the 
Buck, 3 ' come out of our "shells" to enlighten those 
who do not know, just what actual conditions have 
been"? Are we going to tell them how the "hand-sha- 
kers," beginning with those who used "politics" at 
the officers' training camps and Ordnance Depart- 
ment down to the dog- robbers (officers' servants) 
"worked the old army game" to the detriment of the 
service and hardships of the enlisted personnel % 
About the grafters at the Kelly Field canteens who 
charged us more for fruit, candy, and cigarettes than 
the San Antonio merchants, simply because we were 
rookies and did not know how to get a pass to town ? 

How the "Top-kick" who was appointed by the 
"Prep school for Freshy" officer (the product of the 
above mentioned O. T. C.) "climbed your frame" 
because the washing you did the night before was 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 8T 



hanging in the barracks to dry at inspection time 
instead of hanging on a line out in the rain*? How 
the "SM" (another appointee of said efficient offi- 
cer) nearly snapped your head off when you tried to 
tell him that your folks were not receiving your 
allotment 4 ? Of the nights we laid awake in our Eng- 
lish and French "downy couches" listening to the 
drunken brawls that the senior non-com would not 
put down because he lacked the courage 4 ? 

Of the Mess Sergeant (another no less important 
appointee) who would explain that he couldn't 
spare any "seconds-on-slum" because the cooks had 
cut too many steaks for themselves and their "pets'"? 
Of the times you came to breakfast from all-night 
guard, wearing size 19 overshoes (that had to be 
handed over to the new guard after guard-mount), 
with the thermometer at 40 below, to get an apple, 
two tablespoonsful of cornflakes, a slice of bread 
and a cup of lukewarm water (in which the coffee 
bag had been washed) and had the Mess Sergeant 
tell you that the kitchen crew consisted of black- 
smiths instead of cooks'? 

How one of the outfit was re-classified after an op- 
eration and sent home because the Medical Officer 
(so called) kept feeding him "OD" pills instead of 
sending him to some real doctors before it was nearly 



88 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

too late to operate? Of the evening you spent ex- 
plaining away an insult to an English girl by at- 
tributing it to "ignorance of a foreigner" and as- 
suring her that he was the exception, to come upon 
some American officers, "hilariously lit," entertaining 
some of the public women of the city*? 

How, after the armistice was signed, we began 
"dismantling" planes with sledge hammers and "re- 
moving" the tires from the wheels of the under- 
carriages with picks'? One of the Hispano-Suiza 
motors taken out of said planes .would cost an indi- 
vidual a small fortune, but of course the government 
did not pay retail prices; however, it could have 
sold them as used-motors for a better price than sal- 
vaged metal would bring; but that did not seem to 
be a consideration, we proceeded with the destruc- 
tion of high-priced equipment but had to steal out 
to the thicket to chop down a shrub for firewood 
because we "had overdrawn our allotment of fuel 
for the period." 

Are we going to "be sports" and "hush-up" these 
and the thousand-and-one other humiliations, incon- 
veniences and wastes that we could write pages about 
when the rest of the world is making its estimates 
of America and its methods by such acts? Are we, 
when given the opportunity, going to support the 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 89 



party or individual who does not propose reform of 
such policies? Are we going to make him prove, 
by his past performances, that he is sincere and ca- 
pable of "clean fighting" to see an issue through? 

Let us also wake up fully to the realisation that 
"serving for duration" is a decided contrast to the 
"old job under the old boss." The "Non-Corn I C" 
could only "queer" us for a "stripe" or a pass when 
our "Uncle" boarded us just the same; but the "ole 
boss-man" not only says, "I won't give you promo- 
tion," he also says, "If you don't 'hit the ball' you 
can't live on me." But let us not be actuated by 
such motives (doing things because we are com- 
pelled to) ; America could have avoided participa- 
tion in the war, but did we want her to? Did we 
not, as Americans — standing for what we do, owe 
it to humanity to do what we could for the cause of 

Right? 

We, you and I, Buddy, the Smith kid, and the oth- 
ers were delegated to execute the task undertaken in 
our behalf by our President and Congress; we "put 
the job over"; now and when we reach home again, 
let's live up to our reputations. 



VII 

Lewis D. Henderson, 
Private Co. I, 130th Inf., 

University Student Detachment, 
Edinburgh, Scotland. 
Home Address: West Liberty, Iowa. 

Being a doughboy it has been nry object for many 
months to observe my own species in the various 
periods of training, actual fighting, and armistice. 
I have watched the Yanks develop through an im- 
portant series of changes which attach a great in- 
terest to their re-entrance into civilian life. These 
men, drawn originally from all departments and 
walks of society, donned the common uniform, took 
on a new levelled-off relationship and became pres- 
to-change, a distinct class. They had to learn the 
technique of living in masses and many adaptations 
were required. The camp, the hike, the billet, the 
trench and dugout, the conflict and all the associa- 
tions of war have wrought lasting effects into their 
characters, some for better, often for worse. Con- 
tact with foreign and kindred people under the stress 
of a common cause has broadened their outlook and 
given them a bigger notion of the world. The man 

90 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 91 

who comes home is not the same lad who left a 
short time ago. 

Nor do we suppose they are returning to the same 
homes that sent them, to a people unchanged by the 
disturbance of the world. The development there 
has been the complement of the development in the 
army. The responsibility for maintaining the army 
in the field, which was discharged with notable loy- 
alty and sacrifice, produced a corresponding growth. 
The people, having before them even more than the 
soldiers did, the ideals we were upholding, have 
greatly broadened their sympathies and interests in 
the world. Their desire for more natural and hu- 
man conditions in all activities of life has taken on 
a new meaning. It is quite obvious then that the 
reunion of these citizens of the world with the mem- 
bers of the disbanding army has in it elements of 
great possibility for the future. 

Different courses will naturally be presented to 
different men when they find themselves free again. 
Some will find it hard to settle into routine life for 
a while; some will find it impossible to begin where 
they left off and will want to take up something 
entirely new ; others find their connections so broken 
they don't know where they stand and will drift into 
the line of least resistance. But the great majority 



92 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

have pretty well defined plans as to what they will 
do and are anxious to plunge into civil life again. 
Apart from their individual schemes we know that 
in the course of time, they will go home, get into a 
suit of clothes, go to work, establish homes, and in 
general be loyal citizens of the United States. But 
this process will go on in a different spirit and with 
a wider outlook than would have been possible with- 
out the war experience, and the difference will be 
particularly marked in the attitude of most citizens 
toward, and their handling of public questions, both 
national and international. 

America emerges from the crisis to find that the 
old order has passed away and that many new prob- 
lems meet her on the threshold of the new era. She 
has acquired a degree of national unity unknown be- 
fore. Whereas the Spanish-American War united 
different regions with a bond of common interest, the 
past war has welded our various nationalities into 
greater solidarity. Where is the hyphen now*? 
American citizenship has acquired a more vital 
meaning and is appreciated by more people than 
ever before. Our national ideals which have been 
slowly emerging have come to the front and we find 
ourselves entering on a more conscious and deter- 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 93 



mined campaign to amalgamate the heterogeneous 
elements of our state. 

But Americanism is only a step in the realisation 
of the international spirit which has developed. 
The isolation of the past has faded away, the world 
just naturally evolving past that stage of develop- 
ment. It was the idea of isolation that allowed 
England to countenance Germany's programme of 
plundering her neighbours for many years and duped 
the Kaiser's government into believing she would 
permit the murder of France. The same policy kept 
America out of the war for four years but it finally 
had to give way and the greatest lesson we have 
learned is the utter futility of trying to live unto 
ourselves alone any longer. We must put a large 
measure of faith in the League of Nations. 

The doughboys are strong for it. Every one left 
asleep in Europe is a spokesman in its behalf. They 
don't understand all the technicalities of the League 
or of the peace settlement — neither do the folks at 
home. The multiplicity of problems rising out of 
the very completeness of our victory make it a mat- 
ter for experts to deal with. But they are satisfied 
that the enemy was defeated and is being fairly and 
firmly held to account. They feel confident that a 
repetition of his crimes cannot be again attempted 



04 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

I I ■-■ m ill ■!■«■ — 

with impunity by any nation and they are thankful 
for a few statesmen who could put the last part of 
the programme across while the army lay comfort- 
ably by the Rhine. They recognise in the series of 
compromises, material for future controversy. They 
do not think the plan is perfect, but knowing that it 
has a rough road to travel they intend to see that it 
gets a square deal at home. 

These men have been learning tangible lessons of 
world citizenship abroad. Travel usually broadens 
a person and a peep into Europe even under war 
conditions has no mean significance to so large a 
force. They have fought side by side and associ- 
ated with the British Tommy, the French "Poilu" 
and Colonials from various quarters of the globe. 
While learning to admire and respect the English 
they have been unlearning some pernicious ideas 
imbibed from their Elementary School Histories. 
Life in Germany has served to raise their estima- 
tion of the French and the more they think about it 
the more they wonder how France could take so 
much punishment from the foe in his prime and yet 
come back with a vital punch in the last days of 
fighting. They realise that success for a long time 
must depend on Anglo-French unity, friendship, and 
co-operation and they do not figure on slighting their 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 95 

end of the responsibilities. They have decided that 
the League shall be a success and this decision will 
colour their votes and other activities of citizenship 
to a great extent. 

So the fellows who came over here in defense of 
an ideal, backed by a loyal people united in their 
support of that ideal, are returning with a new ideal. 
Adjustments have occurred in their ideas and atti- 
tudes and they expect to find similar adjustments 
among those whom they have not seen for some time. 
They want to be received quietly by their friends 
and loved ones, to be turned loose in society again, 
and above all, to get to work. 

They will get busy carving out their own futures, 
meanwhile watching jealously the safety of democ- 
racy in America as well as the World. They will 
prepare for peace as never before. Remembering 
the part they took in destroying militarism they will 
prevent America from establishing a system of uni- 
versal or compulsory military training. Military 
organisation is essentially undemocratic and they 
will not allow it to menace our institutions. Some 
problems have fortunately been settled in their ab- 
sence. They will do what they can to help out with 
those remaining and the new ones. It is therefore 
with good reason that we look to the years imme- 



96 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

I r ii i ■ in i iiii i i . . ii m ii i— ■■mi 

diately ahead to be most fruitful in progress and 
the growth of a world-wide unity. In boosting de- 
velopment at home and abroad we shall not depart 
from the true spirit of our traditions. Entangling 
alliances is not part of the programme but a real 
world-wide co-operation to maintain freedom and 
justice. 



VIII 

Anton Jensen, 
Sorbonne Det., 

A.P.O. 702, A.E.F. 
Home Address: Blair, Nebraska. 

Home — then what? No, that spirit is not of 
their temper born. Heaven forbid ! To waver tim- 
idly in the face of to-morrow is not their part. Home 
— then what ! That is their spirit, the spirit of the 
soldiers homeward bound, the spirit that cries, "For- 
ward and onward!" It is the only one the boys 
knew whether in the home camps, in the ceaseless, 
straining toil behind the lines, or on the field of bat- 
tle itself. It is the same spirit with which America 
threw herself into the war. It is the spirit of the 
pioneer and of the pilgrim; it is the spirit bred in 
America's veins long ago. With that self -same 
spirit America's own return. 

Home — then what ! Home to make the most of 
what they were before their term in the service. 
Home to make the most of their experiences and les- 
sons gained in the service. Which will be the de- 
cisive factor in their future; their previous training 

or their recent experiences'? For the majority, their 

L97 



98 HOME — THEN WHAT? 



previous training. So fundamental in its effects, so 
modern in its application, so comprehensive in its 
scope, so inspiring in its vision has been that pre- 
vious training that whatever worth while they have 
learned in the service or seen abroad will become 
more or less supplementary to their previous train- 
ing; whatever unfortunate results, surprising few as 
they are, that this period has produced, will soon 
be lost in the return to civilian life. The American 
army has not been and is not solely an army; it has 
been and is a civilian army with strong emphasis 
on the word "civilian." ' 

What then are the results of this period the boys 
spent in the service? Mainly two; certain definite 
and specific results that may be looked forward to, 
and a broader concept of life. The definite and spe- 
cific results flow from two sources: army training 
itself and what they saw "over there." 

'In the training camps they gained a better ap- 
preciation of health and education. In so far as the 
training itself was concerned the new health and vi- 
tality of the men was the most significant fact. It 
was not so much the result of an eternal "squads 
right" and "squads left," "shoulder arms" and "or- 
der arms," endless inspections and more endless 
hikes as much as it was the result of the regularity 



HOME— -THEN WHAT? 99 



of life and the introduction of athletics as a vital 
part of the military training. They learned through 
experience of the value of the observance of every 
principle of hygiene and sanitation. As for educa- 
tional training they saw that even successful war- 
fare was a varied scientific and business proposition 
as much as anything else. Those who had enjoyed 
a fair share of education saw the necessity for main- 
taining that advantage; those who were illiterate, 
and, frankly, they were numbered by the tens of 
thousands, were assisted along the right road and if 
nothing else they at least acquired a longing for edu- 
cational essentials. So then, as a specific result of 
that military training, there has been shown the ne- 
cessity for greater stress, nationally, on matters of 
health and education. 

"Over there" whatever they saw they saw with a 
critical eye. Whatever could better America they 
quickly acclaimed; whatever could not meet their 
approval they as ruthlessly condemned. They saw a 
system of excellent highways with also an absence 
of grade crossings. They saw a greater regard for 
safety in railway travel. America, they will insist, 
must pay a similar respect for the safety of the 
public. They saw beautiful monuments and build- 
ings of art. They saw, in the larger cities, an abun- 



100 HOME — THEN WHAT ? 

dance of beautiful public gardens, parks, and boule- 
vards. It appealed to their sense of civic beauty. 
There will be some other material results each in 
its own peculiar field. In the matter of industry 
and business enterprise there will be a singular va- 
cancy of ideas. Here America need fear no revolu- 
tion at the hands of the home-coming soldiers. These 
then are the more or less specific results that may be 
looked forward to. 

Out of the war has arisen a new comradeship. It 
is one element in a broader concept of life. The 
plainsmen have found real pals in the sons of New 
York. Boys from the land of the Golden Gate have 
sat for hours to listen as in a soft-accented drawl 
southern lads told of life and home in Georgia or 
Alabama. In the boys of the twenty-ninth, who 
wore the emblem of the Blue and the Grey, was seen 
a striking example of the unity of comradeship. At 
their side fought men from other lands. There were 
the Australians, whom they came to know as men 
after their own hearts. There were the Canadians, 
and the English and the Scots. There was the 
French poilu, an example of steadfastness and en- 
durance. So, within their own ranks the boys have 
felt the unity of a national comradeship; in those 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 101 

'i 

who fought at their side they have seen the possi- 
bility of a greater future comradeship. 

A greater love for democracy is another heritage 
of their recent experience. Class distinction they 
came to hate more than ever. In the orphans, and 
in the children the American soldier found the truest 
democracy for these were class unconscious. These 
found a place in the soldiers' hearts. The humble 
peasant might compete for a place in the American 
soldier's heart, but none could displace the chil- 
dren's spot in that heart. Military class only made 
the soldiers love democracy more. 

There is another message they bring back — a mes- 
sage written large in letters of red: sacrifice. Sac- 
rifice ! They came here to sacrifice ! There are the 
graves of those who made the supreme sacrifice. 
There are those upon whose right sleeve a chevron 
of gold tells of another sacrifice. There are those 
who fought with them, spared the foeman's steel but 
as ready for sacrifice as those who fell. There are 
those who knew the sacrifice of a ceaseless strain 
that ran clear back to the port where incoming ves- 
sels dropped anchor. Sacrifices. They saw it in 
others. They saw it in those who came here on a 
mission of comfort. They saw it in those who came 



102 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

here at mercy's call. They know full well the mean- 
ing of sacrifice. 

They return with hope for they saw how the 
peasants return to their homes. Come with them a 
moment in their refugee trains. Here pass homes 
crumbled to heaps of stone, villages wrecked by the 
hurricane of war, fields scarred by the conflict of 
battle. But the peasants go back to build anew, to 
strive on. There are the orchards never to bear 
again. Not a tree stands upright, trees that, spared 
the saw, might have eased with their fruits the life of 
the returning peasant. There they are like so many 
stalks when the reaper's blade has passed. Why 
talk of hope of to-morrow when all around is ruin 
and despair. See! Half -erect, half-seated the refu- 
gees are looking at — at what? What can they see 
in that hopeless field? What can they see in that 

treeless plain? "Mais ils flourissent " and then 

in a cry half-joyous, half-defiant, "quand meme!" 
Count those trees, if you have the heart. One out 
of twelve, one out of ten, at the most, is in blossom. 
Through a little strip of wood and bark, where the 
Hunnish saw failed to completely sever the trunk, 
flows a tiny stream of sap. Thus amidst a world 
of ruin and despair the peasant rises to cry, "But 
they bloom — for all that !" Oh, you who are stran- 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 103 

I ■i nn . -I H 1.. H . 

gers to hope, come seat yourself at the feet of the re- 
turning soldiers as they tell of that hope bred of 
despair. They have seen it. They have lived with 
it. Many a time hope was their one and all. 

If they bring back anything greater than this hope 
it is something akin to that hope; a new faith in 
America. It is not an Americanism that defies the 
world with a rattle of sabres and a clanging of 
spurs. They saw that in the foe and came to hate 
it more than ever before. Theirs is an Americanism 
tempered amid bitter trial. It is an Americanism 
that stands for real progress, but not disorder. It is 
an Americanism that stands for hope. They came 
to love America more, not so much for what she is, 
but because they saw the despair of Europe. Their 
faith in America's future is as unlimited as their 
faith in her present was unshaken by the world cri- 
sis. To that faith in America's future, to that faith 
in her ability to progress, as she has progressed in 
the past, benefiting the while by whatever worth 
while Europe may have added — to that faith the re- 
turning soldiers have dedicated themselves. 

And so when the Statue of Liberty rises on a 
western horizon, up goes a shout. That shout is for 
America and home ! Then they turn to fling back a 
thought. That is for their pals who never will re- 



104 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

r . ^3 

turn. That is for democratic Europe to whom they 
say "In the fight for justice and democracy we tri- 
umphed together by the 'Will to conquer;' lose not 
that forward vision and gladly will we go with you 
to triumph in peace by the 'will to agree.' " 



IX 

John Langdon Jones, 
"Langhurst," 
Roxborough, 

Philadelphia, Pa. 
Discharged from U.S. Army May 12, 1919. 

It was Fontenelle, I believe, who said that he 
hated war because it spoiled conversation. The ex- 
periences of the recent world-struggle, a visit to the 
desolate and spectral battlefields, or even a glance at 
the photographs of the pitiable ruins, indicate that 
this long conflict has spoiled something beside con- 
versation. The distorted and abnormal conditions 
are little by little coming back to their normal ante- 
bellum days, and each soldier must find himself in 
one position or another; it may be the same that he 
once had, or it may not ; but in any case there is some 
position for him to fill, some place to occupy. And 
when he arrives at home he will be a different per- 
son. The thing that counts most at that moment is 
to know what he is to himself, to his family and to 
his country. 

First, to himself. He is older by many months 

105 



106 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

p' — 

probably than when he left home, and unquestion- 
ably has grown wiser with the countless experiences 
that have crowded into his life. I have heard it 
said with contempt that many would return to 
America with big ideas, as a result of having lived 
in France; but I believe that to be an exceedingly 
hopeful sign, provided that the "big ideas" of each 
man are backed by noble purposes, and provided that 
he is true to himself. He who has not gained con- 
victions from the war has lost one of its few good 
fruits ; for certainly the carnage of the past four and 
a half years has left little that may be called good. 
There is something in the doctrine of agony, by 
which a man who has gone through indescribable 
scenes, through harrowing hours and momentous 
days, comes out of it all with a deeper sense of the 
realities of life. And even the man with vision who 
never reaches his trench may see beyond into the 
eternal verities. The man who arrives at home re- 
gretting that his comfortable and perhaps well-pay- 
ing job in the army is finished is not true to himself, 
unless he joined to make money, in which case he is 
absolutely true to a purpose utterly false, but if he 
be true to himself and his inner convictions, it fol- 
lows as the night the day he cannot be false to any 
man. 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 107 

- . £ 

Secondly, to his family. When the soldier left 
his home he went away with a feeling of grave un- 
certainty in his heart and also in the hearts of his 
family, and probably they who remained felt more 
of the pain of parting. It was not the mere travel 
abroad that caused the anxiety, but the thought of 
calamity that might happen to each individual man. 
We shall never know what sleepless hours and tear- 
baptized prayers our wives and mothers have experi- 
enced on our account. And on our return the one 
great gift we can offer is to assure them that we 
have not broken the confidence they placed in us. 
So great is the love that our families bear toward 
us, that to be less than they believe us to be makes of 
us traitors of the cheapest sort. The heroic patience 
of our women demands the most gallant knighthood 
we own. 

There will be hundreds of families who will make 
holiday for their sons and brothers, and there will 
be honours and felicitations of well done. And at 
the same time there will be other families who can- 
not have celebrations because their loved ones were 
more fittingly honoured at their coronation time. For 
the sake of those dead we must, where possible, re- 
member the broken families and bring them cheer 
and comfort, poor though they may be. 



108 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

Thirdly, to America. This is the largest of the 
three points under consideration, and because of its 
vastness the "soldier-civilian" will find this question 
difficult to answer. To us, America stands for some- 
thing positive and real. If it is the wonderful coun- 
try we believe it to be it does not need our approval 
and commendation. I mentioned above the eternal 
verities; one of them is justice; another, honour; and 
so on. As we come out of this war with a few 
months' fighting compared with the incessant con- 
flict of our Allies for years, we cannot in justice say 
that we won the war. We threw into the balance a 
weight that determined the issue, but that is a dif- 
ferent thing, a totally different thing from saying 
with bragging assurance, "We won the war." I am 
reminded of the American who acknowledged half- 
heartedly that the Venus de Milo was a great work 
of art, but added, "You ought to see our soldiers' 

monument in D ." And with a consciousness 

that truth, honour and justice are not playthings 
we come back to make the world better, not to re- 
form it by smug and paternalistic evangelism. Em- 
erson reminds us in one of his essays that a certain 
religious person who was visited for the purpose of 
effecting a cure did not succeed because he was not 
humble, and Emerson says through the mouth of 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 109 

_____ ■ _ — 

some one else that where there is no humility there 
can be no miracle. 

The underlying motive that drove most of us to 
enlist was that we believed we had an important 
task to do, a purpose to serve. That principle, how- 
ever, belongs as much to peace as to war. 
The only defensible criterion for choosing this 
or that is that a man may be of the great- 
est use there. There are of course certain con- 
ditions which force us to do things; but I 
speak of the free choice of the individual. As we 
go back, will it be with the idea that our America 
must be the richest, the greatest, the most power- 
ful nation in the world, or that we shall make it the 
best and the most mutually understanding nation? 
I remember that after having read Donald Hankey's 
classic, "A Student in Arms," I felt exalted, gripped, 
subdued. One of its charms lies in its reality, its 
spiritual force. I believe that it is difficult to leave 
the book with the thought that such a man sought 
fame and popular recognition. The whole story is 
full of the idea of giving one's best for a great cause 
that we yield to its power. Our high duty to Amer- 
ica is that we shall give our efforts toward the tri- 
umph of justice, that the proverbial square deal shall 



110 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

be a reality, and that sham and insincerity shall not 
be recognised. 

Our purposes will be interpreted largely by that 
permanent monument to history, the doughboy. He 
has seen, if anybody has, those things that we have 
been fighting; selfish pride, greed, enthroned injus- 
tice, brutality, vicious oppression and so along down 
the scale of a criminal Germany and I believe that 
we as conquerors — and conquerors because there is a 
law in life that makes right triumph inevitably — 
must give of that best which is the result of our 
deepest experiences. Whatever we may have seen of 
life abroad, it must not turn us from what we believe 
to be inviolable. If we are to make a new era of 
ideals, we can have nothing but virulent contempt 
for a certain Baltimore merchant, of whom I read 
several years ago, one who said that he would not 
employ a strictly moral girl in his store! The 
thought of one of our sisters working there fills 
us with greater horror. We must grow away from 
the idea that we are in this or that state or position 
entirely by a whimsical, fickle fortune. We must 
learn, rather, that we have the power to create and 
mould circumstances. We must go on in the high 
purposes that I believe must prevail toward the es- 
tablishment of a greater brotherhood and a nobler 



HOME — THEN WHAT? Ill 

way of living; and I believe that those who have 
lived the highest will feel the deepest. As the blood 
shed on the fields of northern France has seemed to 
turn to exquisite poppy blooms, so the tragedy of the 
past few years may be a prologue toward a new 
fellowship, a sacred fraternity. And in spite of our- 
selves, the war, with its grim and hideous realities, 
will give us a deeper knowledge of our fellow-men 
and a higher communion with God: 

"Needs must there be one way, our chief 
Best way of worship: let me strive 
To find it, and when found, contrive 
My fellows also take their share. 
This constitutes my earthly care; 
God's is above it and distinct! 
For I a man, with men am linked, 
And not a brute with brutes; no gain 
That I experience, must remain 
Unshared." 



X 

Robert Anwyl Jones, 

Cpl. Ordnance Department, A.E.F. 
Home Address: 412 19th St., 
Moline, Illinois. 

"She saved others, herself she cannot save!" 
. Will such an indictment ever be levelled at the 
United States of America? 

Unthinkable? 

Perhaps — and yet in the turmoil of a shaken 
world that already manifests its unmistakable symp- 
toms in America, not impossible. 

Such a criticism, however, can never be hurled 
except the hard-learned lessons, the splendid philoso- 
phy and the unconquerable spirit of the men of 
America's Expeditionary Forces be wholly forgotten; 
Never, if the American soldier carries back to the 
New World and into his civic activities the same in- 
domitable courage he demonstrated in France, the 
ability to translate the victories of war into the ac- 
complishments of peace, and the determination to 
win for Right, regardless of all obstacles. Never, 

if the spirit of self-sacrifice be carried into the bat- 

112 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 113 



ties of peace as it was manifested on battlefields of 
the Western Front. 

In returning to the New World, the youth of 
America must fully realise that it is in reality a 
New World which he will enter. Lloyd George 
has crystallised this sentiment when he adjures 
young manhood to "Get a really new world. Try 
out new ways, new methods of dealing with old 
problems. Get a new world." 

Indeed, one of the chief, if not most important 
obligations imposed upon the homeward-bound sol- 
dier is that his must be the influence that will turn 
many with a less wide vision from a course that in- 
evitably will lead to a retrogressive, pre-war philoso- 
phy. We must not let a war-weary world lapse into 
its old habits, to resurrect its sordid aims, to en- 
throne the spirit of selfishness and greed. 

It is the men of the A. E. F. who must assume 
the initiative in convincing these wilfully blind that 
no longer can America live to herself alone ; no long- 
er is the "splendid isolation" she once boasted possi- 
ble in a day when her influence has extended into 
every corner of the known world, when every op- 
pressed and struggling nation looks to her for exam- 
ple and help. 

Because they have witnessed the awful conse- 



114 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

quences of Frightf ulness it is the men of the Ameri- 
can Expeditionary Forces who must take the leader- 
ship in preventing either autocratic force or insen- 
sate radicalism from inflicting the curse of Rule of 
Might, Tyranny of Money or Ruthlessness of Mob 
Rule on a free people. 

To say that every man in the A. E. F. appreciates 
Home as a priceless jewel whose value he never 
dreamt of before crossing the Atlantic, is to state a 
platitude. 

Home to every true-blooded American is even 
more than the symbol for loved ones — a mother 
whose eyes have never ceased to turn longingly, 
anxiously toward France; a father just a little more 
erect in the pride of having a son who is every inch 
a real man; or a sweetheart whose love now em- 
braces all humanity through giving her man to the 
cause of Right. 

Home is all this, but in addition, it is the shibbo- 
leth of those who seek Equal Opportunity. And 
home is America — no longer New York, Kalamazoo 
or Seattle, merely, but all the United States. 

And it is just this new vision, this broader con- 
ception of man and his fellows that we of the A. E. 
F. must keep always uppermost, in our industrial, 
social or political life. Ours is the obligation to 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 115 

demonstrate that America cannot only purge a ter- 
rorised and bleeding Europe of the monster of Fright 
and vaunted imperial domination, but that it can, 
and will keep its own heart clean — to maintain a 
true democracy, to prove to a skeptical world that 
we cannot tolerate an industrialism that fails to be- 
lieve the labourer worthy of his hire or condone a 
political serfdom that is based on racial prejudice, 
that we will not countenance a so-called democracy 
that is "half aristocratic and half menial." 

Henry Churchill King, in writing to the men of 
the American Expeditionary Forces, says: "You 
put your life in pledge for a truer democracy in 
your own nation" — and a world turns to the Amer- 
ican soldier for the fulfillment of that pledge. 

And that pledge, soberly entered into, will not be 
forgotten. 

The men of the American Expeditionary Forces 
are going back — perhaps back to the old job, but 
even the old job will become .a bigger one under the 
wider vision and the truer perspective of its incum- 
bent — but certainly going back firmly determined 
to guarantee a democracy which will mean not mere- 
ly nominal equality, but the emancipation of all, and 
to assure equality in education, in industry, in the 
field of politics and in the pursuit of happiness. 



• XI 

Frank J. Kane, 
Stretcher Bearer, 

Ambulance Co. No. I, 
2nd Division. 

We are proud of our Uncle Sam because he didn't 
show us up before Europe. And American soldiers 
have taught Europe a few things. I wonder if 
they'll profit from our system of sanitation*? I won- 
der if they'll learn how to shave a man properly*? 
An American is the only barber who shaves down 
on the upper lip. Every time I got shaved in France 
or Germany I thought the end of my nose was going 
off. Manners we ain't supposed to have, but we 
showed cultured Europe a few of the fundamentals 
of a gentleman. Did you ever notice Private Buck, 
how quick Private Buck gave his seat to the Euro- 
pean ladies *? And did you notice how the European 
men stared at him*? And the woman graciously 
thanked him. Here in the home of Kultur the Herrn 
shove the women around by the scruff of the neck. 
This little act of chivalry — Americans giving their 
seats to Frauen and Fraulein — is the talk of all the 
Rhineland. "Americans are rough and loud and all 

116 



HOME ^— THEN WHAT? 117 



that, especially in their cups," said a Frenchman 
to me; "at first we thought them as wild as Mangin's 
Algerians, but they're gentlemen under the skin." 
Europe will remember us for things other than the 
beaucoup francs and viel geld. And for these, 
Europe is ever ready with the itching palm. 

It's America first when we get back home. We 
know what we are now. We were deferential be- 
fore. We used to feel in the presence of old polished 
Europe like a country heck suddenly lifted by his 
boot straps and thrust on Fifth Avenue. "When a 
man comes to himself," says Woodrow Wilson. The 
returning soldiers have come to themselves all right. 
Like the ancient Greek we are ready to call all bar- 
barians born outside the big old land — we've had the 
pentecost of Americanism, the fiery apostles are re- 
turning. Get ready the incense, ye politicians and 
editors. You can't fool us any more. 

With the revival of Americanism due to the melt- 
ing pot all fighting together, the next generation 
will discuss what their daddies did in the war — there 
will come a solid democracy. And this penetrates 
through our whole national life. We should arrive 
at a great period of literature and art. The great 
American novel may appear. We shall exult in the 
new wine. We shall witness the last struggle of 



118 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

puritanism and pharisaism — those twin devils who 
reappear like some original sin, like the ghost of 
Banquo to interrupt the feast of reason and the flow 
of soul. Impatient with the kill joys the returning 
A. E. F. will have none of them. On with the dance. 
Already the Puritans are intrenching. We hear 
that many fear the return of the combat divisions. 
They say that we have been contaminated with oo- 
la-la stuff. Well, the battle of Paris was certainly 
some battle, but I suppose there's a battle of New 
York or Chicago or any other American city — and 
this will have to be fought too. Nature, who is 
prodigal with some favours, gave the women of 
France beautiful forms and they are the incarnation 
of grace and charm. Who would decry mademoi- 
selle for her exquisite taste in the art of dress ? The 
soul of France is art. And the voices of French 
women! The seolian harp sounds like a jazz band 
by contrast. Old Bill of Avon, the Isle of Albion's 
voice for all time, must himself have trod the prim- 
rose path of Paree, for he refers to "Our sweet Ene- 
my France," and surely he had Mile. Yvonne's voice 
in mind when he set down the line, "Her voice was 
soft, low and gentle; an excellent thing in women." 
"Is there anything we can do for you?" a returned 
soldier was asked at a New York hospital. "Yes," 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 119 



he said, "don't send me a nurse with a high, shrill 
voice." 

I have very little respect for that virtuous fellow 
who never said or did anything that his mother 
wouldn't approve — till he went down with the first 
wave in the Paris attack. I doubt his sincerity. The 
A. E. F. will return to you less pharisaical if a bit 
more Rabelaisian. France laughs at this nonsense of 
virtuous men getting worldly by reason of contact 
with her. 

We want to be free when we get back. Puritan- 
ism still frowns on the joy of life. They have 
heaved Dionysius and his goat-footed revellers from 
the Pantheon. But we don't mind that. Still we 
were fighting for democracy in Europe when they put 
it over. But we don't mind that either. But we 
have a fullness of pleasure like they have in Europe. 
They seem to eat more and eat often, and drink 
much pinard. We drank a great deal of the old 
frogs' pinard ourselves during the War. Of course 
we have the distracting pleasures of a corner soda 
fountain where people drink with straws. And 
there's the decorous ice-cream parlour. But the 
point is we demand some public house, call it cafe, 
where we can sit down and talk, etc., and have some 
refreshments of some kind. Coca-cola won't do. 



120 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

^-— •— — — ^— « 

Something about a first cousin to Bacchus if you 
can't make it a brother. We want a kindred spirit. 
Do you suppose a Y. M. C. A. will fill the bill? We 
want to have a place to go where a tract is not poked 
into our hand every now and then. In Philadelphia 
Puritans still close the sweet movie on Sundays. It's 
only a short time back since the joy killers exorcised 
the devil out of it and sanctioned it all. And there 
be those, God help us, who would close it to-morrow, 
if they could. 

We'll not be straitj acketed when we get back. 
We're more vocal now than we used to be. We 
lived with the oui's oufs and the ja's ja's. We can 
tell it to you in three languages. 

We think our country should achieve the sum- 
mum bonum. Poets, philosophers, theologians, have 
groped for the highest good — a land of the heart's 
desire. America fulfills much and promises in abund; 
ance. All other countries are rank with the corrod- 
ing poison of the past. America, as Will Irwin 
says, has a single track mind. England has her em- 
pire to look after. Germany has no literature or 
art except the sculptured deification of the Hohen- 
zollerns omnipresent in Deutschland. Her litera- 
ture died when she went in for might and power. 
Germany is rankly materialistic. France gives the 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 121 



world its intellectual worth, and in art we bow to 
her. Our country combines everything worth hav- 
ing. And great things are inchoate in her. Out of 
this war an ultimate freedom in everything should 
follow. License will not follow. It's fatuous to 
fear that — if you know the American people. Lit- 
erature will mount to excelsior. Will the great 
American novel arrive*? Puritanism will put up the 
fight of its life. It's their last chance. Away with 
it. A Uez toot sweet. 



XII 

William C. Knox, 

Pvt. Hdq. Co., 58th Inf., 4th Division. 

Home Address: Oneida, New York. 

Some may even expect the fulfillment of the pes- 
simist's prophecy that we shall become nothing but 
"old soldiers." It will be decidedly up to us to an- 
swer the question as a soldier should. Having 
fought a good fight we must still press forward to- 
ward the distant goal, a life well spent in trying. 
For I take it, that every man-Jack-of-us, from Gen- 
eral Pershing down, has tried in his own small way 
to be a soldier. We have learned what it means to 
have unity of action and singleness of purpose. We 
have had to toe the mark, to keep in line, to wait 
wearily in the rain and snow; we have taken orders 
from men who, back home, we thought were our 
inferiors, all because we were trying to be good sol- 
diers. Surely we were not trying to be good sol- 
diers so that some day we would be called "old sol- 
diers." No, just as America showed the world how 
quickly she could become a living factor in the 

World War, so must the members of the A. E. F. 

122 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 123 



show as individuals how quickly and completely 
each can become again a productive citizen. 

Back in those dark days of 1917 when we were 
making up our minds, we had visions of this day 
which now promises to be so near. We decided to 
come because, some day, we thought some one would 
ask us — what was our part in the World War? We 
came, and do not need to give the answer which 
history will always tell. Back there, we thought that 
this was going to be the one big thing in our young 
lives; before the war, during the war, and after the 
war. We have had wonderful experiences, we have 
suffered untold hardships, we have seen the inside of 
life and the vastness of death, but "the end is not yet." 

We know now that all this was for us only a 
schooling and that we are soon to graduate. We shall 
soon be handed our diploma in the form of a dis- 
charge and then — what ? We must see to it that the 
period during the war does not surpass in purpose or 
achievement the reconstruction — after the war. 

For many the old job will be waiting; for many 
more there will be a new job, but in either case it 
will be up to the soldier to make good. His dis- 
charge may serve as a passport or entrance require- 
ment to the job but after that his own doings must 
prove that the job is not too big for him. If he has 



124 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

I ' =3 

really grown, it will not be difficult to make the job 
big enough to fit. Many a man will be paid for his 
work at first, more than he is worth, for the people 
back there have contracted the habit of giving to 
the soldier. He must remember then that he is no 
longer a soldier, who gets almost everything free, 
but a civilian, and civilians must pay. His days of 
buying cigarettes, chocolate and other needed arti- 
cles, at cost, from a generous government or welfare 
organisation will be over. Then, will come the real 
test of the soldier's growth. 

I remember the first talk that the Chaplain gave 
us on that Sunday afternoon when we had been re- 
lieved in the Argonne ; how he brought to our minds 
the question: why we had been spared when there 
were so many other men, better than we were, who 
had stood the final test and whom we had left, back 
there, on the hills and in the woods'? "It is for us, 
the living," to fill the places left vacant by them as 
willingly and as well as they would have done. 
They made the sacrifice freely; we must, as freely, 
fill their places and our own to give back to the 
world the final reward. 

It was then that we learned, because of the lack 
of them, what it means to feel the touch of loving 
hands, to hear the sound of the gentle voice, and to 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 125 

. ————■— — —^ ^ — —— 

see the clear eyes of a good woman. You have seen, 
countless times, the affection displayed by the Amer- 
ican soldier, rough as he is, toward the little children 
by the way. You have seen him touch gently the 
curly locks on little heads, walk hand-in-hand with 
some little urchin of the street, and give away half 
his meal when there was seldom too much. It is 
more than half true that little children and dogs are 
the best judges of character. Tell me, then, what 
child in France or Germany does not love the Ameri- 
can soldier more than any other. Then tell me, how 
these same soldiers can go home to the land where 
they can love and be loved and show any other spirit 
than that which has been their most predominant trait 
during the war. Do you think it will be possible for 
them to lose their spirit of generosity and brotherly 
kindness as soon as they put on civilian clothes'? 

We have seen enough of things military to know 
that the American can tolerate military rule only 
in an emergency. We have seen enough of Bolshev- 
ism to know that it was never made for us. We are 
not going home as a body to any one party or class, 
for all political parties as well as Labour and Capital 
will have a generous representation from the for- 
mer members of the A. E. F. But the future vet- 
erans of this war may be depended upon to fight 



126 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

again as individuals or collectively whenever the 
fights of mankind are threatened or the sacredness 
of women's honour is at stake. 

We have not learned to love the British, but now 
we understand them better. We do not idolise the 
French, although we revere their spirit of sacrifice. 
For all our allies we have an undying respect since 
we know what they endured through four years and 
more, and still held on. We have not even learned 
to hate the Germans, although we despise the thing 
for which they fought. A League of Nations ? Yes, 
by that or any other name, a living thing in the heart 
of man, born in the mind of all free thinking people 
realising that the rule of the world by one tongue, 
one creed, or one nation was never meant to be. 

We are returning home more truly American than 
we ever were before. We know now what love 
of country means. We know the priceless worth of 
a friend in need. We see the size of the place we 
have to fill. Humanity to us is no longer an expres- 
sion but a child of the soul of man. It is because 
we are changed in mind, in heart, and in spirit; it is 
because we see the relation between the future of 
the world and our part in the past war that I say — 
we are returning home to become citizens of a bigger 
America and, therefore, a better World. 



VIV 

Proctor P. Lincoln, 

Pvt. l c. Army Athletics, G-5, 
11 Ave., Montaigne, Paris. 

James Sinclair wasn't a soldier. In fact, if he 
was a little younger he would be classed in the 
mamma's boy category. But he had grown beyond 
that age and now carried a cane, upon certain mo- 
mentous occasions, for James was in love, and like 
all lovers he wanted to outshine all competitors in 
the manner of attire. 

Time went on and the newspapers carried big 
black headlines one noon stating in a heart-palpitat- 
ing way that the "War was on." James bought a 
newspaper that evening at a subway station as he 
was on his way home. Every one had newspapers. 

The news did sort of tingle the blood in James' 

veins but it was only a passing touch of excitement 

— for James contemplated his wasted form beneath 

the fair clothes he wore, had dubitated before that 

in case of war he was miles away from it, at least 

from a physical standpoint. And then he was in 

love ! 

127 



128 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

The war was in Europe for him. 

Uncle Sam began to camouflage his overseas ves- 
sels, steady streams of pack-burdened doughboys 
boarded the vessels and they sailed away from the 
Statue of Liberty. It really caused no noticeable 
vacuum in the social life of the town; it was only 
an occasional lad who vanished from the whirling 
life about him. 

So James sat tight, went on as usual in that "busi- 
ness as usual" attitude, which characterised the 
States at that time — and made love according to 
Hoyle. 

Even June 5 Registration Day didn't make a per- 
ceptible ripple upon the nerves of James, for why 
should any army need young men of his physical in- 
capabilities and who never saw a gun and never even 
glanced at the army and navy news in any Sunday 
newspaper? He felt he couldn't pass an examina- 
tion for an old ladies' home, although he was only 
nearing the twenty-eighth milestone. 

He saw many perfect specimens of manhood 
about him and he knew that they were ready for the 
call. But he was beyond redemption, around the 
corner, he felt. 

But one day, with the snow just disappearing off 
the ground and a spirit of spring in the air, a sort 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 129 

» 

of patriotic fever coursed through him. He didn't 
sense its coming and it caught him unawares. He 
had hardly ever listened to the five-minute orators 
in the theatres, for they had bored him and a recruit- 
ing crowd was always a spot of humanity to posi- 
tively avoid. 

That was early in March, 1918. 

But the warmer air kept gripping him, along with 
the army fever, and he felt that he might as well 
"try out the doctors." So he said nothing to his 
family or friends, even that girl was forgotten, and 
he went before the medical doctors examining re- 
cruits. It was now late in March. 

There was a marked difference to James in his 
clothes and without them. There were twenty-five 
pounds of difference to the casual beholder. From a 
beau brummel dresser he became, like magic, a poor 
specimen of manhood. 

But the physicians found no organic trouble with 
James and despite his bodily emaciation he was for- 
warded to camp — Camp Devens — and went through 
that mill which produced O. D. soldiers from civil- 
ian dressed young men. 

. . • • • 

There was a two-golden striped James Sinclair in 
France the other day. He's probably home now 



130 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

111 y 

with the big outflux of overseas soldiers who pro- 
ceeded over that memorial gangplank on their way 
home. He has the same name as the James Sinclair 
of early March, 1918, but his physical appearance 
is changed, his mental attitude has been revolution- 
ised, and home, to him, looks like a million dollars. 

And that girl is still waiting for him. 

And what has happened to James in this country 
despoiled by war and what has made him more of a 
man for the future is shown in a letter which is typ- 
ical of the thousands of other Americans who were 
in the same "boots" as Sinclair. Excerpts from the 
letter, which was received by his aunt, follow: 

Dear Aunt: — 

To-day is warm and they say the drive is on at the 
front. We sense it, too, for the speed of our work is 
doubled and longer hours is the rule. 

This is the time to make one think. You remem- 
ber that I have always felt the call of some other 
city and home didn't have that halo about it. But 
now — after the strain and tear of war, sleeping in 
mud and eating in quick time, — that home looks 
better than a gilded palace in Heaven. 

And some day I'm coming back to it, I hope. It 
will surely be a haven, a shelter. Personally I don't 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 131 

see how I'll ever be "at home" with table cloths on 
the table, or clean knives and forks around. Pm 
afraid it'll be like a dream. 

You will know that I am different. The scales 
show my weight as 143, a gain of twenty-one pounds, 
which is some betterment for me who never seemed 
to change in build for several years. 

And I've begun to think that after all the dance- 
hall-like career out in the evening's bright lights is 
not the real, genuine life but just a tinselled brand, 
—false as a shadow. 

You'll find that I'll devote more of my time to 
politics — which previously to the war was shame- 
fully neglected. A good many young fellows had 
that "let George do it" attitude. But they are 
changed, too. There is little doubt but that for the 
next forty-odd years the A. E. F. will dictate public 
opinion, for the pick of America came across the At- 
lantic. 

According to the drift of language you'll probably 
notice that a good percentage of the young men who 
come back will settle down and marry the girls they 
left behind. They all talk that way and say they 
have seen enough of the world and are willing to 
"be at home" for the remainder of their careers. 

"Home — what then 4 ?" Why, better citizenship! 



XIV 

James MacDonald, 

Cpl. Class Camp Infirmary, 

St. Aignan-Noyers France. 
Home Address: James MacDonald, 
26 West 32nd St., 

New York City, N. Y. 

He held the line at Chateau-Thierry; he pushed 
on from St. Mihiel to the Argonne; he sweated and 
toiled with almost superhuman strength. He did 
his duty — gloriously. 

But now he had completed the last lap of his 
journey in France; from the army on the Rhine, or 
from the S. O. S., he has arrived at his port. Even 
now he can hear the siren of the good ship "Trans- 
port" and to-morrow he ascends the gangplank to 
sail for the land where the Goddess holds aloft the 
beckoning light. He will soon be free, able to do 
as he chooses, the master of his own destiny and so — 
(but let me present my subject) — Gentlemen! he is 
a first class product of the United States. He is, 
gentlemen, the American Doughboy. 

For obvious reasons we can not discuss the 

thoughts and opinions of each individual member of 

132 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 133 



the Army Overseas, but from the knowledge gained 
by long association with the rank and file we can 
have a fairly definite idea of the philosophy of the 
Soldier. 

The celebration of the good news of his homego- 
ing has passed and the time has come, now that 
he is on the threshold of the old life, to consider seri- 
ously the problems and questions related to his fu- 
ture. Up until the time of reaching port only one 
thing mattered — he was going home! But alone 
with himself the question looms larger than ever be- 
fore, the question of " and then what?" 

He instinctively feels that he cannot pursue the 
old life exactly as he left it. Changes have arisen 
and try as he may to dismiss the thought it presents 
itself that he also must be different, not only to meet 
changed conditions but in justice to himself. 

His reasoning begets a fixed idea. He must in 
duty to himself, be clean and wholesome and carry 
on in civil life the finest traditions of the soldier. 
With a quickening of the senses he knows that he is 
superior to the man he left behind on the day he 
reached his training camp. At the time he was just 
an ordinary civilian, often careless and even slovenly 
in dress, not given to thinking of ideals and higher 
things; but having been through the maelstrom of 



134 HOME — THEN WHAT? 



War he knows the reasons why he shouldered a gun. 
And so he realises that he went through Hell for an 
Ideal. 

He knows a real man when he sees one and while 
he is unfamiliar with the meaning of the word "Psy- 
chology" he has become an expert on the study of 
human nature. He knows the fate of the coward; 
he has seen the strong man of the company go to 
pieces under gruelling shell fire, has watched the 
weakling win the D. S. C. 

He has acquired the habit of thinking. His re- 
ligion is Service and his motto the Golden Rule. 
His body is clean, his mind is clear and he finds his 
thoughts travelling on the upward path. A civilian, 
he was content with his lot and glad to live from 
day to day dependent wholly on others; a soldier, 
he feels his responsibility, he knows he is a better 
man than he was before and he has suddenly become 
ambitious. He is determined to play the game 
straight and he is out to win. 

There comes a thought of one who has been with 
him through it all. His memories of her are the 
sweetest and purest. Her hair is silvered and the 
lines of care have deepened since he, her boy, sailed 
away. But to him she is all that is beautiful and 
good and true. No other mother is just as good 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 135 

"3 



as she. How often has her picture, which he carries 
between the leaves of his Testament, been the sub- 
ject of his adoring eyes'? To him it seemed that 
each day merely served to intensify his love for her. 
But now he was going back with the pent-up love 
of many months clamouring for expression. He feels 
a trifle ashamed that he was not all that he should 
have been to her in the old days, but that is over 
now. He appreciates all that she has ever done for 
him and he remembers vividly that awful time of 
anxiety, months ago, when he had had news of her 
sickness. It was then that he, who seldom entered 
a church, prayed that she might be restored to health 
and now, on the eve of seeing her again he had a new 
faith and belief in his God and a new sense of de- 
pendence and gratitude to Him. 

He recalled the names of his pals who died in the 
field. No! they had not merely returned to dust. 
Their bodies? yes! but the laughing, cheerful Bill 
and Joe or their more serious comrades still lived. 
Of that he was certain. He could not believe that 
they had gone forever; his simple reasoning would 
not permit the thought. Their spirits lived — he was 
not quite sure where, he was no theologian — he was 
satisfied in his belief. That was enough. 

With a feeling of elation he thought of Dad. The 



136 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

old man sure would be proud to welcome his son 
home and he was going to show him that his son 
was worthy of the name. Together they would 
tackle the problems of home life and together they 
would show the world that they could make a real 
home. And then his kid brother. He knew just 
how proud he was of his big brother in France. The 
kid was young and it was plainly his duty to look 
after him and, by his example, have him grow to be 
a real man, clean and strong. 

He thought of the girl. She had been so true to 
him and her letters had always been a source of joy 
and encouragement. As soon as he got settled he 
would pull off that little job which was already 
contracted for — and his face extended into a grin as 
he saw in his mind's eye that ring on her finger. 

Yes, he was going home — home to his own be- 
loved land. The time was very near now. He 
could almost hear the chug of the engines as the 
big ship started on her way. Home ! and all that it 
meant to him. He hastily wiped away a tear and 
then immediately looked to see if any one had ob- 
served him at such a weak outburst. If there was 
anything he hated it was cheap and tearful senti- 
ment. 

His eye caught the waving flag high over the 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 137 

— — — — — i a — — — — — — — — — a— m 

■ - ■ . ■ ■-. — . . ■ — — ■* 

barracks square. He had fought for it — aye! bled 
for it (and he thoughtfully brushed a thread from 
his wound stripe), but it was worth it all. The flag 
was whipped as if into life by a sudden breeze from 
the harbour and at that moment the future became 
clear as a crystal to the homeward bound doughboy. 
He had fought for his flag and what it stood for, 
with gun and steel and nerve and sinew, but the 
greater fight was ahead of him now. The old order 
must go. No more could crooked and corrupt poli- 
tics exist. The cleanliness of a man's character 
would be his recommendation. Higher and higher 
would climb the standard of his new America. She 
must lead the world in righteousness and justice. To 
her had been given authority to set the standards 
of truth, honesty and clean living. America, his 
America ! would undertake the leadership of the na- 
tions and as the conviction bore itself to the soldier 
he suddenly realised that he was a part of the great 
new order of things. He had youth, health, and a 
soaring ambition. He understood now that he and 
his comrades in service had a tremendous opportunity 
such as rarely comes to a man, and in his brain there 
was formed a determination to perform his new task 
well and faithfully. He would give of his best and 
be true to his vision of a better America, for what it 



138 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

meant to him, for the sake of his dear ones at home 
and for the honour of his beloved homeland. 

And so, as the last rays of the setting sun pro- 
claimed the close of another day, and the transport 
busied herself for his coming on the morrow there 
was born a new citizen of the Better America. 



XV 

William H. Martin, 

Sgt. Administration Co. 12, M.T.C., 
APO No. 717, Tours, France. 
Home Address: 24 So. Jackson Ave., 
Chelsea, Atlantic City, N. J. 
U.S.A. 



American Business has been tapped on the shoul- 
der by an insistent young man who has a valuable 
proposition to sell — a proposition the value of which 
is beyond challenge for the simple reason that the 
world has been reading the "ads" and has seen this 
particular brand of goods put to the full test of 
ability. Your young man is endeavouring to sell, 
and will sell — Himself. 

Take, if you will, the young American who 

donned his khaki uniform and Cookstoured to the 

A. E. F. for the sole and simple reason of removing 

some of the "h, e, double 1" from Wilhelm. It did 

not take him long to sell his particular brand of 

ability to the C. in C. or to the enemy. He has been 

well advertised, it is true, but at the same time he 

was shipped with a money-back guarantee that was 

backed by gilt-edged securities. Young America 

139 



140 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

learned his first lesson then and there, he learned 
to serve. 

The pathway to all success is through Service. 
When a man has realised this truth he has but to 
place his "Regals" in the path that has been traced 
by the men who went before him, and kept moving, 
and sooner or later he will limn the lines of the clas- 
sic structure that hoards the precious germ of con- 
tentment. That is what we are all working to at- 
tain. 

We go back to America some day. Some of us 
will go back to our old jobs with the feeling that we 
will take off our coats and lick them to a standstill. 
Others of us have grown beyond our jobs both in 
ideals and in effort. When a man has learned to 
bear a burden that is a wee bit heavier than the one 
he once carried without noticing the difference in 
their respective weights, he loses caste with himself 
if he reverts to the lighter task. What was it that 
Hubbard used to say about responsibilities'? 

Your young American will not be satisfied with a 
pay envelope; he wants a pay check. He has been 
thrown into the melting pot with men who have 
painted great pictures before his eyes — with men 
who have been content with even less than his por- 
tion. The resolution to grow worthy of a greater 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 141 

commercial niche has been born within him. He 
sees himself in the bigger job. The one statement 
that American employers will hear in the future is 
this: "I am looking for something better than my 
old job." And the reason is plain. When a man 
has suffered for the ideals of other men, it is not 
long before he takes those very ideals to his own 
heart. Then he is fighting not for those other men 
alone, but for himself first of all. His vision broad- 
ens as his sufferings and privations grow. In his 
very miseries there is the irrepressible that exalts him 
and lifts him up and onward to his victory. 

We think of our old jobs now — we see the old 
desk, and remember with a smile the pile of papers 
under the bronze figure that used to hold them down. 
Day after day we went there, and each day saw the 
little pile increase and diminish with duties added or 
decreased. It was a good old job — the work was 
pleasant, and we thought we could see the dawn of 
our success creeping up slowly. We pocketed our 
pay — remember how we used to call it "salary" in 
those days, and say "pretty soft" to the boys? 

But now with the bearing of the greater cross and 
the heavier burden we have found that our feet are 
still as steady on the road we travel. We have 
found how easily solved are the problems that once 



142 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

vexed us, how easily surmountable are the obstacles 
that once loomed ominously ahead of us. It will be 
child's play to face them now. When the khaki has 
been tenderly laid aside for the new Stein-Bloch, the 
hands will reach out to break treaty with the past 
and to grip with the future. And I know that the 
future is all that some of the boys are going to have, 

There will be new fields of endeavour opened anc) 
new channels through which the quickened blood of 
our men shall run will soon be found. There will 
be more sincerity in the day's work, for these boys 
will realise that in the past their very lives depended 
on work well done. Truly, had business realised 
this years ago would there be as many changes 
necessary in Bradstreet, or in Dun? And, as a busi- 
ness man, would you not feel secure if you knew that 
your newest employee had been one of the boys 
"over there"? 

This much I know — that if America grows she 
must grow in the sinews of her young sons; if they 
are strong then she is doubly strong — if they are 
weak, some day the stones will slip from her foun- 
dation. But you know and I know that the new 
shoulders that have been put to the wheel are not 
the type that yield ground. They may not have 
been so strong before the war, but now — see how 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 143 



the muscles spring to the taut, and vision if you can 
the immensity of their future. 

Home, and then what? There is only one an- 
swer, and we can put it in very few words — to shake 
hands with Success. And to do that we mean to 
keep on serving — to keep on doing the very best we 
know, even though it may be the smallest task we 
have — -to intrench ourselves firmly before the citadel 
we intend to capture, and to dig in both mentally 
and physically until we win. 

It may be no easy task — but oh, the joy of the 

winning! To feel the joy of doing something that 

brings results— that, in itself will be the greater 

recompense. For your lad in khaki is capable of 

great things, and he will not wish or care to try his 

hand at petty ones. The old mould is cracked — 

the new one is being filled with its molten mass, 

and your new design shall be beautiful, and strong. 

And here is a little word of caution and of truth — 

you need not try to subdue the young America — a 

new and greater impulse has been born — and in the 

hearts of the boys who are coming back to you the 

rubber stamp idea has lost its place. They want 

their names and their ideals to stand for something. 

They sold themselves on the fields of France, and 



144 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

i ■ ii n i i 

i . 

they are coming back to sell their services again — to 

American business. 

That was what I meant in the beginning. Some 
of them are flinging wide the portals already — some 
are still tapping for interviews. Home, and then 
what 4 ? I think that the young men of America are 
looking to America for the answer to that question, 
and when it is given they will give theirs. 

As for me, I've got two hands — i 



XVI 

Robert Spencer McClure, Jr., 

Sgt. Ambulance Co. ill, A.E.F. 
Home Address: Quarry ville, Lancaster Co., Pennsylvania, 

U.S.A. 

"Home and then what?" would be a silly ques- 
tion if the men of the A. E. F. were going back to 
that home with mind and soul unchanged by their 
experience abroad. 

The question itself imports a change. If one can 
locate that change, analyse and tag it so that its 
exact nature is known, then some fairly accurate 
forecast can be made about what these men will 
probably do in the future. 

When Izzie and Percival and Pat sailed from 
their native shore they had more or less hazy ideas 
about this thing called Democracy. They were will- 
ing to fight for it but they didn't fully realise just 
what it was. They had lived with it and had its 
protection for so long that it had become a matter of 
course with them. 

They were more or less careless citizens with an 
idea that so long as they didn't start any riots or sell 

145 



146 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

their vote but cast it for the best man, they were 
doing their duty to the country. Furthermore, they 
didn't want to be bothered too much in finding out 
who was the best man. The baseball score and the 
dance to be held in Murphy's Dancing Parlours next 
Tuesday were a lot more interesting. 

After landing in France the Izzies and Pereivals 
and Pats were put to a thousand and one different 
jobs. 

As they marched weary hours, each carrying a 
galling pack, or lay in shell holes with lights over 
head and machine guns spluttering at them; as they 
worked until aching muscles fairly shrieked for rest 
while they put up two warehouses in the time that 
only one went up before ; while they were doing three 
thousand and one jobs that called for hardship and 
sacrifice and endurance such as they had never 
dreamed of before, a change was taking place. 

When a man suffers the agony of days and nights 
of continuous work, when he goes without food for 
long periods of time, as he inevitably must during 
severe fighting, when he goes and goes until he can 
sleep between a pig and a goat and enjoy his slum- 
ber, he takes more than a passive interest in what 
it is all about. 

When he hears the groan of mortal agony and sees 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 147 

the death pallor creep over the face of his pal, he 
starts to ask himself if it is all worth while. 

The men of the A. E. F. have answered that 
question in their hearts to their own satisfaction. 
The answer they gave on the battlefields should sat- 
isfy the world. 

These men have come to realise what they 
only thought before. They realise that the spirit of 
democracy is the grandest, the most sublime senti- 
ment in the human breast. They now know that it 
isn't an elusive thing to be spoken of but that it is a 
concrete ideal to be followed. They have seen 
what Autocracy would do to the world and they 
are willing to fight again and die if need be that their 
fellow men may not be slaves but free to work out 
their spiritual and worldly salvation in their own 
way. 

This is the change that has taken place. What re- 
sults may we logically expect from it after Izzie, 
Percival and Pat have returned home? Any indif- 
ference that these men had about the government has 
gone. They have no idea of trying to make radical 
changes. Why should they, when the very founda- 
tion of the government is that ideal for which they 
have suffered? But if that ideal was worth all 
the pain and suffering of France, then it is worth 



148 HOME — THEN WHAT? 



all of their energies in practising it at home. That 
ideal is a thousand times more sacred now and will 
be guarded that many times more jealously. 

I do not mean that they are going back to be pro- 
fessional politicians. There will be less politicians 
from the crowd than if they had stayed at home but 
as they follow the plough or sell ribbons or work in 
a mill, they will have before them their country's 
problems and they will attack them with a new-born 
interest and a knowledge and intelligence broadened 
by travel and experience. 

The birth of the realisation of duty to country 
came first because that was the duty ever-present be- 
fore them in France. That the realisation of duty 
to family and self should follow is natural. 

These men are blessed or burdened (whichever 
way you choose to look at it) with a sense of duty 
that their service in France has forced upon them 
whether they wanted it or not. They cannot escape 
it. They will be more conscientious workers because 
of it. 

Home, and then what? This is what each of 
those men desires : a clean life of honest work. He 
knows that if his country really stands for democ- 
racy he will always have an opportunity for that 
clean life of honest work, and so he resolves to keep 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 149 



an ever-watchful eye that that ideal for which he 
has suffered be not tampered with, but remain the 
shining beacon light toward which the ship-of-State 
should unfalteringly pursue her course. 



XVII 

"Mike," 5th Marines. 

"We're going home ! These are magic words to 
every member of the A. E. F. They fulfill our fond- 
est desires, they represent our greatest ambitions. 
Since the signing of the Armistice, the thoughts of 
this moment have been the beginning and the end- 
ing of all our plans and actions. To most of us, it 
means not merely the triumphant return of the vic- 
tors, but rather, our long looked-for release from 
military routine; a welcomed return to the old civil 
life with a broadened vision, an enlightened attitude 
and a renewed energy, a blissful reunion with fa- 
thers and mothers, brothers and sisters, wives and 
sweethearts: the happy revival of old interests and 
habits and friendships; the gradual obliteration of 
the strange nightmare of the past year, when we 
lived like hunted beasts in the mud and filth of the 
front and prowled like thieves in the dark, when 
we travelled like cattle in a car or plodded weary 
miles upon miles through the night; when we were 
cold and soaked to the skin for days at a time, and 

150 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 151 

a heap of dirty straw in a cowstable was a Heaven- 
sent bed; when for days we never slept and seldom 
ate and one little canteen of water was more pre- 
cious than the wealth of the world; when a man's 
life was a matter of moments, a plaything of fate, 
whose value was naught, yet most precious of all. 
And he lost it or gave it or saved it, as fate willed 
or the occasion demanded. 

No, nightmarish as they seem now, we can never 
forget these days. And that's another reason why 
we want to return. Oh, to get these grunting smirk- 
ing Boches out of our sight, to leave the pitiful, 
haunting ruins of devastated France behind, to hear 
again our native tongue spoken on all sides, to look 
once more upon the old home town, to greet our 
friends, to meet our loved ones and gaze upon the 
fairest land on earth. Our work is done, the Hun 
is vanquished. Do you wonder that we crave a 
quick return? 

Even I, who have no home, am most as bad as the 
rest. No monster fete, no state's acclaim, no city's 
royal welcome awaits our regiments return ; no wife 
nor mother anxiously counts the days until I come, 
no urgent duty calls me from over there ; no business 
clamours for my services; no single immediate sum- 
mons comes to me across the sea. And yet my soul 



152 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

hungers to return, if but for a day. To gaze upon 
the old familiar scenes, to walk again the paths of 
my childhood and to rub elbows again with a good 
old American crowd. 

What matters, if my home be broken up, my fam- 
ily scattered from Michigan to Texas'? Except for 
five strenuous weeks at Quantico, it's four years since 
I've been in the good old U. S. A. and over ten years 
since I've been home. And I'll make the most of it. 
As soon as we land, I want at least thirty days all to 
myself. First, I'll beard the Pater in his den, where 
he sits every day, absorbed in loyal devotion to his 
work; a proud, stern, lonely old man. And I shall 
stand at attention and say: "Dad, your eldest son 
has returned and asks forgiveness for his sins. The 
years have been long and the way has been hard and 
my folly has been as great. But at last I return 
with clean hands and pride in my heart. In the 
shock of the past year I have been born again and I 
crave that the past be forgotten and that we may 
resume again the relations of ten years ago." And I 
know that he'll forgive. For he, too, has done his 
bit and been imbued with the great spirit of the war. 
And then we shall talk, way into the night, of many 
things; of my future and his, and of my brothers 
and sisters, and of mother and the days that are gone. 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 153 

And he'll probably suggest again (but not«insist this 
time) that I go into business with him. For it is 
not for me. And we both know it, now. 

And then I shall go to my eldest sister in another 
state and she'll get a week's vacation from the office. 
And we'll take a canoe and a camping kit and we'll 
spend the whole glorious week on the old river and 
in the woods. We'll paddle and fish and swim and 
dive and bask in the sun. And she will fix for me 
wonderful things to eat, and sing the songs that 
mother sang to us. And I'll tell her of my wander- 
ings and of the war and of the grave of one whom 
she knows will never return. And we'll bury our sor- 
rows and regrets, both of us, then and there, and 
return to our duties, strengthened and fit for the 
years to come. 

Next comes my brother, who's married, though 
younger than I; blessed with a cozy little home, a 
dear little wife and two rowdy youngsters who are 
strangers to me. From his letters, I know that his 
cup is overflowing with happiness, though he foolish- 
ly laments at times the fact that he is tied down and 
can not roam the world at will. I shall visit him 
and romp with his boys and revel in the joy of his 
home. And he shall be proud of his big brother and 
his decorations and possibly a bit envious, for he too 



154 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

— — g*» .ii.m.iiiii.iii n ii i—— bm — ii . i i n . i n i m i n i um , miiiik i — l 

was once smitten with the wanderlust. But I shall 
enlighten him and show him the emptiness of it all. 
Nor shall I try to conceal my envy of his wife and 
boys and home, that he may realise the value of what 
is his. For it is we homeless ones who really know 
the priceless value of a happy home. 

From there I shall go to my younger sister, who 
is a Junior at the University and very much in love 
with life. And we shall go to the theatre and dances 
and picnics — she and I — and I shall be on dress 
parade and meet her friends and form my poor 
opinion of her school and her friends. And perhaps, 
lecture her in vain upon the seriousness of life, for 
she is young and talented and has the family failing 
of having a head of her own. And probably she'll 
know what is best at that, for I'm not much versed 
in the ways of women. 

My next call takes me to Texas, where my 
younger brother, not yet 21, lingers voluntarily, as a 
Sergeant in the Army. To him I shall say: "Brud, 
the war is over and your work here is done. For a 
youth of your age and ability, the Army holds no 
future. Get out and get out at once. Choose your 
vocation in civil life and start now, building for the 
future. Every moment which you lose now is 
precious. In your youth and inexperience, this care- 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 155 

» » ' i 

free life appeals to you. You crave action and 
variety, want to be footloose and free to see more of 
the world before you settle down. You imagine that 
there will be time enough for that later. But you're 
wrong, radically wrong. Out of my experience, I 
tell you you are mistaken. Truly, only a fool or a 
child thinks that twenty years and twenty dollars 
are never spent. Believe me, when I tell you that 
this life which you're choosing, is empty and vain, 
and palls on me, just after it's too late to profitably 
change. So profit by my loss and follow our 
brother's footsteps and not mine." 

And last I shall go, all alone, to the grave of 
my mother, in that sleepy little old Illinois town. 
I'll tell her my troubles and confess her my sins, as 
of old. I'll commune with her spirit and seek her 
advice. I'll ask for her blessing and receive guidance 
and inspiration to keep the resolutions I have made. 

Having squared the old scores and wiped the slate 
clean, I'll report back for duty with Uncle Sam, in 
the service which has been my salvation, and en- 
deavour to maintain the record, and be worthy the 
title, of United States Marine. 



XVIII 

P. A. Montgomery, 

Pvt. 5th Co., 14th Grand Division, 
APO No. 701, Montoir, France. 

We had been married nearly three years, and had 
a baby boy nearly two years old. We could not get 
along. She never had loved me, nor had I really 
ever loved her. We had talked of a divorce quite 
frequently of late, but there was always the question 
of who should have the baby. I wanted him, so did 
she. We talked of it calmly and without any regret. 

So home meant nothing to me. It was something 
to keep away from. Something to shun as much as 
possible, which I did. I knew she was a good girl 
and a good wife, but could see no reason why I 
should spend my whole life in misery. She felt the 
same toward me. 

Then I joined the army. I had gotten a leave 
of absence from the company I was working for. I 
had left bills amounting to about $175.00 but I had 
enough wages due me that she would get to pay it 
all, and have a little left. She had intended renting 
part of the house furnished to help out until she 

156 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 157 



would get her allotment from the Government. I 
was glad to get away. 

I had been at Ft. Leavenworth over a month, and 
she wanted to come up and stay awhile before I left. 
I told her to come. I had written her as regularly 
as she had me. I had begun to miss her, though I 
was not homesick. I knew I was doing the only 
thing I could do under the circumstances by joining 
the army. 

After she came I spent all of my spare time with 
her. Neither of us had a great deal to say to each 
other; we would take the baby out walking and go 
for an hour at a time without speaking to each other. 

One evening, a few days before I was to leave 
for France, I went in to visit for a couple of hours. 
We were sitting talking low, as the baby was lying 
asleep on the bed. For the first time I noticed her 
skirt, neat but a little worn, and her shoes were a 
little run over at the heels. A lump came in my 
throat and I couldn't help it. Glancing upward I 
could see her eyes were full of tears. All I could do 
was to look for several minutes. I could not speak. 
Finally I managed to ask her what was the trouble. 
She was beside me in an instant, and between sobs 
told me she didn't want me to go, and asked why in 



158 HOME — THEN WHAT? 



the world I wanted to leave her and the baby, that 
they needed me. 

I braced up and told her that we had never been 
able to live together with any harmony and that if 
anything happened I made all my insurance to her, 
and she could live on the allotment and the house 
rent she would get, while I was in the Army and if 
nothing happened to me I would provide for her and 
the baby after I was discharged. I had said all I 
could; she was sobbing hysterically and could only 
say, "Don't, don't do it." The baby had climbed 
down from the bed and stood in front of us before 
I noticed him. He tugged at his mother's skirt and 
said, Mamma!" My wife could not answer him; 
then he came to me and said the only other word he 
knew and really understood, "Daddy," and looked 
up at me with wondering and questioning eyes. 
Then he climbed up into my lap and put his arms 
around both our necks and cried with us. 

The next few days were full of happiness for us. 
We hated to part. I knew she was game, and would 
make out all right, and she had confidence in me. 
That was all I needed, it was all I wanted. I went 
to the train to see them off. All I could say was 
"Well, good-bye" and turned and walked away as 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 159 

fast as I could — after the train started. I was glad 
it was dark. 

We have been in France a year now, and we are 
going home, perhaps next month. Home! a word 
that had almost lost its meaning to me. 

Then what*? There never was an expression that 
would put an A. E. F. man to thinking any quicker, 
but who knows ^ Each man has an idea. Perhaps 
he will say he is going to spend the rest of his life 
in bed. Perhaps he has a girl over there or he is 
going to "rest up on somebody" for about six 
months, then go to work. There is no problem of 
any importance to the individual. All he wants is 
to get home. Then he will let nature take its 
course. He knows he will come out all right. It is 
a cinch that after last July and August he will 
remember that forty to seventy hours' work on 
corned willie sandwiches is not pleasant. A great 
deal depends on what branch of service men are in. 
I know of one detachment that has organised a small 
association. They expect to get busy as soon as they 
get back. Their purpose seems to be to get ac- 
quainted with their Congressman and keep in touch 
with what goes on in Congress, and also to have a 
convention occasionally to compare notes on what 



160 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

has been done, and to plan a programme for the fol- 
lowing year. 

I, for one, am not going to teach my boy to step 
out with his left foot first. I am going to teach him 
that when he is in trouble not to despair, but to look 
around for a solution or for several solutions and 
then choose the best for every one concerned. I do 
not want him to ever be a soldier, but if he ever is, 
I want him to know he is on the right side. I will 
teach him all about birds and flowers and animals, 
and to love nature. As he gets older I'll teach him 
to vote for the man who is an advocate of the prin- 
ciple that is most beneficial to people who need help 
the most, and to be interested enough to see if he 
does it or not. That is only a few of the things I 
could name that I want him to understand. 

In the meantime I will be doing my bit as a 
citizen. I would like to see our natural utilities put 
to use for the benefit of all and our natural resources 
preserved as far as practical, such as forests and coal 
deposits. I am going to do something I've never 
done before, and that is to save some money. I have 
sure learned that it is inconvenient to be "sans 
francs"; beside that, you can never have any pres- 
tige, and without prestige you can't make much. My 
salary will be a little over $300 each month when 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 161 

— ^ —————— >+ 

I get back and I have enough spare time to make 
extra money at something else, without interfering 
with my regular position. We are going to visit our 
parents every year and see that they have all they 
need in their declining years. 

If I ever have any one working for me, I will pay 
them enough so their daughters and wives will not 
be tempted to throw their self-respect to the winds 
in order to have enough to eat or decent clothes, or 
I will not hire them. My wife can check on my 
account for I have that much confidence in her judg- 
ment. I know hers is much better than mine. 

I feel more like a man than I ever did before. 
Without the trip to France, I don't believe the 
change could ever take place, and I am not going 
to let my spirit lag, for I've learned that disappoint- 
ments are trifling affairs and soon pass. I am going 
to forget all the "bawling outs" I have gotten from 
unthoughtful officers, not that they went in one ear 
and out the other, for most of them showed utter 
lack of sense and of justice, but I have had enough 
unpleasantness. I will even forgive the bird who 
stole my russet shoes, by the time I get home. It is 
a cinch we will leave the vin sisters here and from 
all indications old John Barleycorn won't be strong 
enough to meet us at the dock. I am not sorry, but 



162 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

I did have a little hankering for Blanc and Rouge, 
but when I think of the bareheaded and half naked 
French "gamin" I saw last winter standing in the 
snow eating from our swill barrels around our 
camps, I can leave without even bidding them 
good-bye. 

I think of my own "petit gars"; I can only see 
him as a toddler, like he was when I left, but he is 
almost a man now I guess, for he talks a blue streak 
at everybody that asks him about his father. He 
says "Daddy soldier France ship, train home" and 
has to show them my photo and his service pin. 

My wife in her last letter says she went to visit 
an old school-girl friend. In her words she said: 
"Mrs. So and So has a new baby girl. I wish we 
had a little girl for P. A. Jr.; she would be such 
good company for him and he is getting so big." 



XIX 

Arthur Prill, 

Chief Engineers Section, 

Headquarters, Third Army, A.E.F. 
Home Address: 544 West 145th St., 
New York, N. Y. 

Home — What a magic word. It means to me, not 
a mere house with street or garden, but my folks, 
whose circle widens as I think of them till the vision 
embraces my town and My Country. After getting 
there, "At Ease," "At Rest" and "Fall Out" are 
going to be my principal drill formations for two or 
three weeks; then will come a desire for action. 

This, for most of us will mean finding a job. My 
mother is a wide-awake woman and I can take her 
advice in such matters feeling sure that I'm march- 
ing under competent orders. She has already written 
me that when we soldiers return we must be careful 
about our attitude because : 

Nobody owes us anything. 

What we had the privilege of doing abroad we 

did for ourselves and already receive recompense in 

the continuation of our country's freedom, to say 

nothing of our own individual development. It may 

163 



164 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

be days, even weeks before some of us find the work 
we want; in such case it may be well to analyse one's 
object: 

Is it suited to our ability"? 

Is it the opening to seek at this time? 

The men to whom we apply for work are good 
judges of who is likely to be a profitable employee 
in their business; if we are not sure we can deliver 
the goods on this requisition we had better attack 
on a new front suited to our man-power. The answer 
to the second question depends on commercial con- 
ditions. If business is slack in one's old line, one 
may be able to get almost, or quite as good a pay- 
check from some other kind of a house. Go where 
the action is hottest if you want to gain ground 
worth having. A turn-down here and there does not 
matter; did you never have to go around a machine 
gun nest before you could bomb the Boche out of 
it? If you were in the Engineers and found one 
section of the road so full of shell holes that it 
would have taken a week to fill them up, didn't you 
build a new road around and between those holes in 
half a night? 

On making a reconnaissance of our field of action 
— these vast, wonderful United States, such of us 
as are not held by family ties will find that the road 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 165 

sign "Back to the Land" does not point to a region 
of mere wheat, potatoes and hogs. Out in the real 
West are mines and smelters, logging camps, horses, 
cattle, railway and water power construction. Be- 
tween the Columbia and the Colorado Rivers are 
chances enough for adventure to make every day a 
red-blooded event for an old soldier. 

On a city job, the courage which counts is that of 
self-control. You may work in Wall Street ten years 
and never see a chance to steal a subway ticket, but 
not many of the boys hold themselves down and 
leave their savings in the bank when coppers or 
motors begin to jump in a boiling market. Yet it 
will only be when you learn to make your money 
work for you that you will take the advance line of 
your objective — financial independence, and a man 
is no more likely to pick up sound investment prin- 
ciples by glancing at the stock quotation column 
than he can learn to do "Squads Right" by looking 
through a manual of military training while sitting in 
a Morris chair. 

This eighteen months in the Army has sure put a 
crimp in my own bank account, francs nearly fee- 
neesh, so for a year or two after I get back to work 
I'll save, or maybe accumulate Liberty Bonds. Then 
if I am not in direct touch with financial affairs, I'm 



166 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

going to get one of the officers of my bank to help 
select the first investments among public utility or 
railway bonds and preferred stocks. Meanwhile I'll 
be studying some of the good books now available 
on financial methods for beginners. An uncle of 
mine who's been through the Civil war said to me 
when I enlisted "Remember that colonels are not 
born with the silver eagles on their shoulders," and 
few fathers are now raising crown princes. 

Only for our character's development is it a satis- 
factory thing to set our aim among the stars. Do 
you remember the time when you had been marching 
all night, even your can of corn willie was gone, you 
had no slicker in the rain and your legs were numb 
yet full of needles^ "Five more kilometres" was the 
word passed down the line, but you whistled and 
tried to crack a joke with that lanky connection file 
ahead whose ankles were nearly all in. Well, in civil 
life too you can do your darndest no matter how you 
feel, yourself, to make things look a little brighter 
for the other fellow. Perhaps the greatest humani- 
tarian problem before us lies among the 17,500,000 
aliens now in the United States. That they will give 
their lives for the flag we saw in the Argonne beside 
us. If you have the weight you should in your com- 
munity throw it to the political candidate who stands 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 167 

for the most liberal education of these foreigners as 
well as of your own children. The world's miseries 
are mostly due to ignorance which like mustard gas, 
makes a casualty of a man without his knowing it 
till too late. The restlessness that manifests itself in 
anarchistic activities will have to be met by just such 
iron justice as old soldiers can hand out. In your 
own trade or profession join those movements which 
make for unity and construction, yet, respect the 
rights of others. Just around the corner the sick 
and the poor can always be found; the latter are 
best helped, not by direct gifts but by showing them 
how to adjust their own battle-sights, and by the 
way, don't let the good deed be contingent on 
thanks. 

I guess a lot of us have also decided that as soon 
as we've found a satisfactory location we'll let some 
pretty girl do us the biggest favour of our lives. 
Boys, hasn't the American girl got 'em all beat, 
thought She will be really worth leading up the 
aisle. 

So our future at home resolves itself into a con- 
tinuation of service in a vast United States Army 
that works and fights without uniforms. When our 
hair turns white and the final peace is near, we will 
want an eternal furlough to visit those comradeg 



168 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

whose last good-bye was murmured to us on the 
Marne. We must be ready for inspection by that 
Great General who wears the stars of the universe; 
then when the zero hour comes for each member of 
the A. E. F. he'll go over the top with a smile of 
victory. 



XX 

Pvt. l/c, 

Camp Hospital No. 33, 

APO No. 716, Brest, France. 
Home Address: Richfield, California. 



I saw a magazine article entitled, "As You 
Were." I wondered if we were going back home to 
be as we were. Most of us are going back home, 
but "As You Were?" No, that is asking too much. 
The question is even being asked, "How you gonna' 
keep 'em down on the farm after they've seen 
Paree?" The author of this ditty is right; seeing 
"Paree" makes a difference. But he's wrong; all men 
do not respond by leaving the farm to go jazzin' 
aroun', paintin' the town. That will be the choice 
of some. Others will paint their thoughts, or land- 
scape their gardens, discourage vulgar entertain- 
ments, organise to fight prostitution, oppose dirty 
literature, prevent dangerous dance halls — he has 
seen what all these lead to. 

Many of the A. E. F. have never seen Paris. And 

to those who have, the impressions are less forceful 

than the impressions of other experiences we have 

169 



170 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

had over here. To live with Death for days at a 
time, to meet him, to just miss him, to have him 
take your buddie — how can you tell them "As You 
Were" after they've lived with death? To trudge 
under mule-packs for miles and miles, kilometre 
upon kilometre, foot after foot, perhaps with two 
packs for the last long mile — how you gonna' — can 
a man use all his pep behind a ribbon counter after 
that? To live in mud, to sleep with rats, to endure 
with cooties, can the collegian pursue learning for 
learning's sake as before? Paris, H. E. shells, 
mademoiselles, Sam Brownes, dead men, maimed 
children, submarines, England, Pershing, sausages, 
dead men, gas, lice, blood, submarines, maimed 
children, the armistice in France, Christmas in Ger- 
many, Fourth of July in New York or Homeburg — 
experiencing any or all of these makes the old life — 
as we were — impossible. 

We are broadened or we are narrowed; depends 
on how much we think. Most of us are broadened. 
We are hardened or we are softened, depends on 
how we react to what we think. Most of us are 
hardened to endure, softened to respond. It is well 
we are not the reverse, softened, ready to quit; hard- 
ened, to the calls of sacrifice. 

The war has ceased. But there is no peace. The 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 171 

— s 

world is nervous. Problems confront us, the world, 
at every hand, the old problems of disease, the new 
— no the old but mounting problem of Bolshevism, 
the hopeful problems of education and government, 
the growing problem of population, the challenging 
social problem general. 

Fortunately the Yank is used to facing problems. 
More than that, he is used to overcoming them. I 
have left the problems of religion out of the list, 
for I look at that not as a problem, but as the solu- 
tion. Religion was the only force accused of failing 
to prevent the world catastrophe. Religion is the 
only solution offered with claims of being compre- 
hensive. Socialism is offered as a panacea by a few 
heated fanatics. Religion is offered as a panacea by 
thousands of cool, sane Americans — Yanks. 

Most of us will go back home with the spirit of 
adventure stronger. It is a healthy spirit. If we 
venture to apply Christianity (Christianity is the 
best religion — and the most adventurous), if we "bet 
our lives that there is a God," if we take Christ 
seriously — how He lived, what He said— then the 
American Expeditionary Forces at home will be 
forces for wholesome uplift of humanity. 

How will it work out? Jack will be kept down 
on the farm "digging in" in order to send little Bud- 



172 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

die to college. He will be building "huts" where 
wholesome play, reading, entertainment, and in- 
struction will build up the morale of his children, his 
neighbour's children, and his European neighbour's 
children. He will be leading in co-operation in sani- 
tation, in buying and selling, in good roads, in good 
government. He will bring the city clinic to the 
country. He will have his hands full combating 
world problems with a vital religious faith down on 
the farm after he's seen Paree. 

It may be harder after army life to keep the city 
Yank in his pent-up office or monotonous factory. 
They, too, will be kept from "paintin' the town" by 
a vital religious faith. With them social and politi- 
cal problems will be intensified. Let them wear out 
their pep in downing selfishness and freeing human- 
ity. The pep will not then be fruitless. Let them 
spend their millions in foreign missions, and thus 
most surely prevent future wars. Let them co-oper- 
ate with their buddies down on the farm in the 
splendid task of making America perfect. 

Home, then what 4 ? Never, "As you were.'* Old 
things have been blasted out of our minds. New 
zest has been blasted into our minds. Something will 
take the place of the old things. In some manner 
the new zest will be spent. "When an unclean spirit 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 173 



leaves a man, it roams through dry places in search 
of refreshment. As it finds none, then it says, 1 will 
go back to the house I left', and when it comes it 
finds the house clean and in order. Then it goes off 
to fetch seven other spirits worse than itself; they 
go in and dwell there, and the last state of that man 
is worse than the first." Let none of us who have 
had evil spirits blasted out by war experiences be 
found "clean and in order." Rather, let there be 
found a vital religious faith pervading, which will 
take sword against that spirit and all his kind. 



XXI 

Charles A. Rayman, 

Cpl. 129 Bn., 258 Co., M.P.C. 

Home Address: 1002 N. Clark St., 
Chicago, Illinois. 

Humph ! Here it's four months since the Armis- 
tice has been signed and not a single bit of encourage- 
ment of going home, laying on the floor of this old 
hay loft looking at the cobwebs and half freezing to 
death while nearby every other guy in the neighbour- 
hood is back in God's country grabbing off the 
cream. 

Casual companies, holding companies, replace- 
ment companies, training cadres and a million other 
darn knock abouts. I'm sick and tired of this eating 
off wheelbarrows, bridges, streets and the like. I 
wonder why in the deuce they couldn't have left me 
with my old company instead of busting us all up. 

By Gosh! I guess I never will get home by the 
looks of things. I wonder where in the deuce the 
rest of the bunch is to-night? Trying to police some 
wood or a crap game somewhere, I suppose. 

What the dickens is that noise out there*? "Lo 

174 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 173 

Bill," where's the gang*? For the love of Mike shut 
that darn door, what ya been doing, going over the 
top with Vin Blanc again? Gimme that paper you 
got in your pocket, and if you go out again be careful 
and don't fall down that ladder and bust your fool 
neck. I suppose the M. P.'s will have to carry you 
all home before you finish up this party, say! and 
try to police up a hunk of candle some place so we 
can find our shoes in the morning. 

Don't see what made me hit the hay so early to- 
night. What's this? I wonder where he ever got 
hold of this paper. The official organ of the A. E. F. 
"Wholly Gee!" this is rich. Home going schedule, 
eh? Now that's interesting, loading 34 men per 
minute, all of the A. E. F. will be home by August, 
now who'd a thunk it? Well ! Well ! 

Casuals and wounded carried into transports, gee 
whiz, I guess I'm lucky I ain't got any old scrap 
iron unloaded in my carcass at that, guess some of 
those poor guys will have a pretty tough time of it 
for a long while. 

Well, this is some paper I'll say. Guess before 
long they will be getting us all out of here for home 
"Toot Sweet." "Home." Wow, pretty hard to 
take — Nit. 

"Home," then what? Yes, then what? I never 



176 HOME — THEN WHAT ? 

gave that a thought. Well, what the dickens should 
I do after I get there? Let's see now, how do I 
stand? This army stuff ought to help some, disci- 
pline, reveille, retreats, formations, etc., everything 
on the minute is punctuality that's a pretty good 
thing in business and appointments, I have heard, and 
a good asset. Setting-up exercises, calisthenics and 
care of the body — that ought to help some. Personal 
hygiene, kitchen police work, washing pots and pans, 
etc., ought to qualify me as a first-class dish washer 
in a restaurant or hotel some day. Bivouacing, 
trench digging, etc., qualifies me for a sewer digger 
or coal miner, that training cadre job furnished some 
opportunity to study men and human nature and 
may make a good railroad or street foreman out of 
me; then again, that Military Police training may 
help me get a job with some civilian police force and 
driving that truck might make me O. K. for a 
chauffeur position. 

Then I have learned a lot about farming and the 
like by watching these Frenchmen and one good 
point learnt is that of conservation — the one great 
reason the foreigners are so successful in business 
back in old U. S. A. 

All this training has got to come in handy when 
I get back, and if I go into business, I sure have 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 177 

■ J 

had plenty of opportunity to study the ways of men, 
having slept with them, drilled with them, eaten 
with them, etc. ; that's a good item in itself and will 
come in handy most any time. 

I'll be one of the last ones to get home but if I 
buckle down and get my shoulder behind the wheel, 
I guess I can push through, for in the army, compe- 
tition and promotion were not as easy as I thought 
and when I made up my mind to get there I was 
pretty successful, and guess I ought to be able to do 
the same in civilian life also. 

The old following don't look so good to me now 
and if I can locate a new line or a better opportunity, 
I guess everything will re-adjust itself O. K. all 
right; at any rate personal cleanliness, hygiene, etc., 
puts me all to the good and nothing lost even if some 
of the knocks have been tough ones, our forefathers 
fought for America and I guess I can do the same 
without kicking. 

Glad they got all those wounded guys home first, 
and when I get back I won't be ashamed to shake 
them by the hand and say : "Well, buddy ! Glad to 
see you and that everything is going well.' , 

The financial situation will have to be studied out 
according to conditions but oh boy! I'm sure going 
to hit that old bath tub strong as soon as I get that 



178 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

discharge and put on an ice-cream drive that will 
make my stomach forget every one of the weary 
days in France, then lock myself in a room, throw 
the key out the window, hang a sign on the door 
"Closed for ten days," crawl in the white sheets and 
forget there ever was buglers, soldiers, armies, can- 
ons, guns or anything else. 

Yeh ! here comes the gang up the ladder. I better 
pull my head under the covers and go to sleep. If 
I say anything about home to those guys, there will 
be a hob-nail barrage "Toot Sweet." 



XXII 

Raymond Brothers, 

Prvt. l/c American School Detachment, 
Clermont-Ferrand, APO No. 723, A.E.F. 

Home Address: Claysville, Ohio. 

Had we been asked this question the day of the 
Armistice, the majority of us would have instantly 
replied that our greatest desire would have been to 
get out of knee-deep mud, to locate a decent place 
in which to sleep, to have had the pleasure of 
rummaging through the home-pantry for an apple 
pie, a bit of custard and to have sprawled down 
before a fine fire in order to absorb all the warmth 
possible for a couple of weeks ; childish ? Rather. 

There are others whose energy will be expended in 
finding the old gang, in experimenting for a suitable 
substitute for beer or how to make a non-alcoholic 
cocktail with a kick. Still another class of individ- 
uals, more radical than the rest, will be concerned 
with emigration laws to countries where water is 
used for laundry purposes only. 

But all these childish and impatient ideas of re- 
turning soon give way to something more rational; 

179 



180 HOME — THEN WHAT ? 

out of an almost chaotic confusion of impressions, 
certain ones began to clarify. 

The importance of this home going and its at- 
tendant considerations assume frightful propor- 
tions, and we find ourselves face to face with a 
number of questions of prime importance. They 
must be solved. Am I returning to the same old 
job? If so, sluggishly contented as before*? Have I 
learned to know my fellowmen better after having 
bunked, eaten and fought side by side for so many 
months ? 

But that merely brings us down to where we 
begin finding questions all must settle. We find we 
were very selfish on questions of education, on all 
manner of community and social problems. Now we 
wonder how we ever managed to live satisfied with 
such narrow, dogmatic views. 

Then, he who has the interests of the community 
at heart, he who wants to see a more wholesome and 
efficient system of education, a working religion, and 
whose aim is ever toward an eternal peace, must 
surely intend to examine and carefully weigh some 
of the following topics. 

There is no better way to judge a nation than by 
examining its schools, colleges and educational sys- 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 181 

tern. The principles underlying this will be the prin- 
ciples which govern the nation. 

We sent to Europe during the past war, an army 
which speaks eloquently for American education. 
An education which permits of initiative, which 
brings out the best qualities of the men is the edu- 
cation toward which we are going to strive. 

So, no finer task, no worthier work or no better 
profession lies before us than to take a leading hand 
in the education of young America. There is an un- 
limited field here for us men of the A. E. F. We 
who have had an unprecedented opportunity to 
travel and to compare methods with those abroad, 
we are going about this task with a broader under- 
standing of our particular needs. 

If America is to hold a leading place among the 
nations of the world, and this she has already 
proven, she must be the best educated. We are now 
paying more money for the education of our young 
citizens than any other nation in the world. It must 
be our duty to direct this expenditure and to make 
every dollar of that sum count one hundred percent. 

The energy of young America is gigantic, and if 
directed into proper channels will be able to accom- 
plish untold results. Yes, we must aid in making an 
educated America. 



182 HOME —-THEN WHAT? 

But good resolutions and ability to see clearly 
what must be done will amount to but little if we do 
not put some dynamics behind it. Work, and more 
work will be the keynote to success. Plans uncom- 
pleted are useless. Plans with proper materials, car- 
ried through according to those plans, bring com- 
pletion. Then above all we are going to work. By 
that we do not mean endlessly or unintelligently, but 
good clean honest effort. This work may be at the 
desk, in the shop, at the plough handles or in the 
mine. All honest work is equally rewarded. 

If we are a working nation we need have no fears 
but that in time we will have all other desirable 
things. They will come of their own accord. As a 
nation of workers, shall we not lead? 

You have seen your comrades mowed down up 
there on the front by the enemy. They met death 
bravely. You have seen them suffer in first-aid 
stations and hospitals. You have seen those long 
lines of dead awaiting a trench, a grave, or more 
often a shell hole for burial. All the time you have 
been wondering and puzzling over how those men 
met death. It was wonderful, wasn't it? Perhaps a 
few of them were Sunday school lads. But those 
men had a working religion. They didn't boast 
about it, they often hid it from the ordinary ob- 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 183 

server, but when it came to deliver the goods they 
were ready — willing. 

Whatever else be our aim, there is one thing above 
all toward which we as a nation must strive — peace. 
To have any other end in view would be a direct 
refutation of our good intentions and endeavours so 
far numerated. No nation with any other end in 
view can long endure. 

This war has furnished us a notable example. 
Germany, with a thrifty people, a colossal home 
industry and an immense foreign commerce had to 
lose because her foundations were built on a mere 
superstructure of Christianity. She attempted to 
build strongly by physical science alone, leaving out 
the essential features of a national conscience, of 
a true purpose and of a lasting peace. The weak 
superstructure crumbled and left her ruined. 

We must avoid such development. If we want 
peace, let us seek it; rather, let us make it our goal. 
Let us be firmly resolved and assured that each suc- 
ceeding generation will not have to pass through 
another conflict like that which closed on November 
11, 1918. Yes, our programme will be a peace 
programme. 

After all, we may attain these aims but still be 
lacking. We need still another asset if we are to be 



184 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

real, energetic and intelligent citizens. We must 
join that great Brotherhood of Man. 

That silent easy-going neighbour of yours whom 
you seldom saw and never really knew; remember 
that night when you went over the top? You were 
wounded and couldn't get back. 'Twas he who 
brought you aid, got you to the first-aid station and 
made you comfortable. No, you cannot forget it; 
nor will he forget that grip you gave him as he left. 
You knew him from that moment on. Have you 
more neighbours? Do you know them'? 

We simply cannot go back to pre-war levels. We 
must get a little above the dead level of humanity 
and reach out to these our fellow men with whom we 
are associated. We cannot go back to what we were 
before the war; we cannot permit any one with 
whom we come in contact to be what he was before. 
We must meet the situation as it now confronts us. 

Then, each man of us is going back to a home or 
to form a home. 'Tis a man's greatest privilege to 
have a home, a wife, children. 'Tis our sacred duty 
toward our fellowman, the nation and toward our 
God. 

Here in the home is where we are going to begin 
the new era. Here is the place to inculcate into the 
mind of the child the principles and teachings we 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 185 

j 

know to be true. If freedom, equality, and fraternity 
are to be the goals toward which we are going to 
direct the nation's efforts, surely no place is better 
adapted or more favourably suited for this beginning 
than here— in the little Republic of the Home. 



XXIII 

Eugene A. Thompson, 

Sgt. 93rd Co., A.S.C., A.E.F., 

Forwarding Camp, APO No. 762, Le Mans. 

Hundreds of thousands of men are returning to 
civilian life from the Armies of the modern world 
to feel, and in turn to make you feel, "the Pathos of 
Distance" which separates battlefields in France from 
Beacon Street, Boston, or the main street of Coffey- 
ville, Kansas. The readjustment and reconciliation 
of the two points of view in a single experience, not 
to say anything of the history of a nation, is a 
spiritual problem which few men have seriously an- 
ticipated on either side of the gulf. 

The prospect that the present schism between the 
soldier and civilian mind can be overcome by any 
"ingenious works" which emanate from the delibera- 
tions of well meaning but unimaginative commit- 
tees of welcome is poor. Your instinct for organisa- 
tion, your fertile genius for saving works, may easily 
lead you astray here. The problem goes deeper than 
that, and finally resolves itself at last into the sterner 

task of a lonely self-discipline of the inner life. So 

186 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 187 

it has always been, so it will always be as the waiting 
civilian prepares himself to receive the home-coming 
soldier. When the two stand face to face again, no 
perfunctory mechanics of greeting can get across the 
rift — only a penetrating insight which is born of im- 
agination and sympathy. 

In the moment of initial reunion it is more than 
probable that the presence of this subtle gulf will 
not be felt. The gladness of the returning on the 
one side and the genuineness of the welcome and 
homage on the other will, pro tern, obliterate the rift 
which the War has set between the two. The first 
initial greetings will seem to be a reaffirmation of the 
old unity of the common life. But sooner or later, 
because the relations of human nature to experience 
are reasonably reliable, a difference in the point of 
view must make its appearance. 

The first American draft took away from a small 
village in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia 
seventeen of her sons. Before they went away, 
thirteen of them had never slept a night away from 
home in all their lives. It is not within the bounds 
of possibility that those boys will come back the 
same way as they went away. The intervening 
months must bring some change. Life in the moun- 
tain village must forever afterward be looked upon 



188 HOME — THEN WHAT ? 

from an entirely different angle. It must be tested 
upon the touchstone of Chateau-Thierry and the 
Argonne Forest, which is of sterner stuff than the 
innocuous domesticities of the life in the mountain 
village. 

Which is the better world, which is the real world 
may be an open question ; but for these home coming 
men and for those who welcome them, there must 
be in the years immediately to follow, the conscious- 
ness and the collision of two very different worlds in 
the place of the former platitude of one world. 

Every troop train, therefore, lumbering back to 
the channel ports with its freight of khaki; every 
westbound transport on the Atlantic in mid-winter, 
is a symbol of this "Pathos of Distance," a great 
question mark set against all the conventions of 
home. 

The men are returning to the Allied homelands as 
the incarnation of a victorious democracy. But, of 
themselves, they are also the substance of a new 
spiritual democracy. The bluest blood in the veins 
of the civilian Brahmin is not Jhalf so blue as the 
blood in the veins of the humblest "Wop," "Dago" 
or "Nigger" in the A. E. F. who has seen hard serv- 
ice at the Front. Moral aristocracies are an inevit- 
able by-product of every time of intense living. And 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 189 

not even the fresh vindication of the democratic prin- 
ciple can blind our eyes to the new born aristocracy 
of men who are coming back to civilian life with the 
chilling certainty with which they are thoroughly 
imbued and coloured, that by virtue of their suffering 
they know more than the wisest of you can ever 
know, because they have been familiar with, and at 
home in many distant dreadful worlds of which you 
know absolutely nothing. Something more than the 
cracker barrel philosophy of the Blue Ridge village 
grocery store; something more than the platitudes 
which pass across mahogany desks in First National 
Banks, or overflow orthodox churches, will be needed 
to overcome the "Pathos of Distance," between the 
two worlds. The problem of the readjustment of the 
spiritual aristocrat to the "many-too-many" who 
make up his easy going democratic environment is 
always hard. But never was the task of reconcilia- 
tion harder than now. In the welter of problems 
that are rolling on the shores of peace-times, like a 
ground swell after storm, none bulks bigger and 
more imperious than this. 

In his absence civilians have told one another that 
the soldier would not come back the same he went. 
He will be changed, they have said. But how he 
will be changed they really do not know. Every 



190 HOME — THEN WHAT ? 

effort to forecast the change is tinged by their own 
point of view. They read into the expected change 
their particular codes and creeds which are still dear 
to them. And then they read them out again with 
the sanctions of the soldier to give them new valid- 
ity. Are they Tories? Then the soldier will come 
back from the war cured of all the seductions to 
radicalism and pledged to a life of conservatism. 
Are they rebels'? Then the soldier will have been 
infected by the virtues of revolt and will return a 
sworn "Red." Are they sectarians? Then the sol- 
dier's experience will have taught him the truth of 
their dogmas and he will come to take his place in 
their choirs and chant their creeds. . . . 

Something of this sort, then, constitutes the prin- 
cipal task for those who, on the civilian side of our 
"Pathos of Distance," are seriously concerned to 
bridge the gulf: some perception that we have here 
the old but always new collision of the two great 
types of mind. 

On the one hand, we have had at home a mind 
which, under the stress of war and the collision of 
ideals, has been freshly obsessed with the need for 
more and better systems, business, and politics. The 
enemy has proven to us that power of a systematic 
theology once a people are indoctrinated with it. 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 191 

And so, preoccupied with your new systems, you go 
to the pier to meet the soldier, and greet him, in the 
hope that for the sake of civilisation, he will counter- 
sign your intellectual efforts with the sanctions of 
your experience. 

Yet what greets you is not a mind like your own 
but a mind unlike your own — a mind which has been 
trained to suspect reflection as debilitating if not 
dangerous. 

What is needed, then, on the part of the civilian, 
who looks with eager expectancy to the men of the 
home-coming armies, is not any system of thought, 
but a frame of mind, a mental and moral method 
which meets the soldier's own. By some solitary 
inner discipline, one by one, you must be reborn into 
the process of the soldier's inner life if the gulf is 
to be bridged. 

In American homes there still linger the memory 
and tradition of staid young men whom the Civil 
War turned into wandering "Soldiers of Fortune." 
They are remembered or mentioned with a gesture 
of deprecation and regret. Outside the pale of hum- 
drum life these detached uncles and second cousins 
went their way like rolling stones. But it may be 
questioned whether or not the fault was all theirs. 
Perhaps they could not find in the insipid concerns of 



192 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

the "Reconstruction Period" after the Civil War 
challenge and opportunity for their capacity for risk. 

So again men returning from France to a world 
which is still primarily concerned to "play the game 
safe" in religion, business and politics, may well 
question the validity of the ideal which you offer 
them and turn "Soldiers of Fortune' ' as did their 
ancestors. 

Now then, as a conclusion to the whole title, it 
is to be noted that the habit of taking risks has 
generated in the soldier the further habit of selfless- 
ness. If you live a life of risk, you must give up 
primarily of thinking of self. 

It is here that the soldier's life has touched most 
intimately the austerer types of moral idealism. To 
think of self in action and to put self-salvation above 
risk for the cause, is to dally with the sin of treason 
for which military law knows no forgiveness. That 
way lies the firing squad. That so few men have 
yielded to the self-preserving instincts in the face of 
superhuman temptation is in itself one of the moral 
triumphs of the War. 

"The Gulf," then, will never be bridged by any 
works of any obvious mechanical social structure. 
In so far as it is really bridged, it must be bridged 
by that sympathy and imagination in the civilian 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 193 



soul which seeks to understand and reproduce in its 
own life the inner substance and method of the sol- 
dier-discipline. The soldier character has been ap- 
proved and approved. The real testing of the de- 
velopment of civilian character in war time is yet 
to come. It comes with the returning soldier who 
brings to you no final system on which to try your 
patiently refurbished creeds, but rather a point of 
view, an intellectual method. 



XXIV 

Louis L. Torres, 

1845-1854 Jerome Ave., 
New York City, N. Y. 

Never mind the "And Then," gentlemen, but 
think of the real meaning of the word home for a 
man in O. D. uniform ; think of that magic word and 
of what would a man do to be there; but since you 
don't give a hoot about its meaning to us, and the 
words you are interested to hear something about are 
"and then, what" I will do my best to make an ex- 
tract of all the projects I have in mind as soon as I 
hit Hoboken. 

I will go and see the demobilisation Camp Com- 
mander and ask him if he can tum me loose, with or 
without discharge, as that is immaterial to me. In 
case I succeed in this attempt to be free, I will take 
the fastest express that there is in the State of New 
York that will take me up to Manhattan. Upon 
arrival I will make the old lady "turn out the guard" 
and all military honours to be rendered to me ; a gen- 
eral inspection will follow, everybody standing in 
"attention" until the command "rest" is given. After 

194 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 195 

all these ceremonies and compliments, which of 
course are made upon my own request, I will dismiss 
every one in the house, take off my uniform, put on 
my "civies," which by this time may be too big for 
me as I have lost about twenty pounds since enlist- 
ment, fact which is in contradiction to reports from 
the War Department which states that every man in 
the A. E. F. has gained twenty-five pounds while in 
the Army. . . . 

I am a civilian now. I have the right to vote when 
I want and for the candidate that I want to vote 
for. I will have the great satisfaction of taking part 
or voice in the country going "dry" or "wet." I will 
see that my vote never goes to a man of Military 
genius or military tendencies. Furthermore, I will 
see that my vote is never given to a man who had 
anything to do with an army on the rear line. 

Under no circumstances will I give a penny to 
representatives of religious or other organisations 
who claim to be working for the welfare of the 
boys at the front during the next war. If I was 
sure they would (the boys) get the benefit of such 
contributions, I would not hesitate to send them 
what they ask for, through the above named institu- 
tions, but honest to God, as I never got anything 
from them while I really needed, notwithstanding 



196 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

i'.- 



the fact that my mother gave a lot of "dough'' to 
those societies, I doubt if they (the boys) will really 
get what I give in the next war. I am of the opinion 
that the best thing to do in the next war is to claim 
exemption on the "grounds of being religious" and 
start working for one of those Welfare Institutions. 
I will never take a walk or even smile with girls 
who worked for the A. E. F. in Europe. Not be- 
cause they are no good; no, they are O. K. They are 
too good for me, or at least, they were while they 
were in France. They could not promenade with an 
enlisted man in Europe. They could not walk 
around and smile to the soldiers of a free nation who 
are reputed to have won the war and made the world 
safe for Democracy; so, you see, pals, them girls 
were too good for us. But when I put on my civies, 
conditions are entirely different; then I will think to 
be a real hero. Then you will pick your own friends 
and do things according to your own will and in 
compliance with your own free G. O.'s. Oh, that I 
will be independent ! Home and then Independence. 
The nation is going "dry." There is no question 
about the measure being a good one as far as I am 
concerned, but for heaven's sake, keep it wet until 
I return, until I am demobilised. I want to get 
"stewed" that day. I want to get drunk in order to 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 197 

drown the joy of having on once more the good old 
reliable civies. If I don't kill the joy with alcohol, 
the joy will kill me, and nobody under the sun wants 
to get killed after the war is over, or at least I have 
never heard of one. . . . 

Will say something else in regard to my future 
plans, that is to say, when I will be free. My chil- 
dren will have a refined education so that when the 
new war breaks out, they will not have to enlist 
right away as their father did, but will make appli- 
cation for a commission if possible in the M. P. 
Service. There they will be fed accordingly and will 
prevent anybody from stealing their jam. My 
daughters will never go to work for the Army, as 
it is forbidden for them to walk around with sol- 
diers, and that is one thing I would like them to do, 
to entertain and please the poor boys who fight 
while their mothers stay at home suffering the tor- 
tures of Hell. 

The next war will be fought in France, that's a 
cinch, as everybody who starts an argument in any 
corner of the world comes to settle it here. Well, 
gents, if our Armies have to come here every time 
something starts, I believe the best thing for me to 
do is to begin making experiments of how to pre- 
serve ham and eggs to send to my boys overseas. 



198 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

i 



They will, I am sure, appreciate it. The love for 
my mother and sweetheart has grown to such an 
extent for the last two years that when I return I 
will tire them with all the attentions of the man 
who has been deprived of a family for a long time. 
Only God knows what it is to be away from home 
under orders. . . . 

To get a job I will depend on my own knowledge 
of the business, and not on the reputation of being 
a war veteran, as many already think. My motto 
will be "no war talk." What is the use, anyway? 
There will be many heroes up home. You will find 
them usually in the bar rooms annoying bar-tenders, 
that is if the country has not gone dry. You will 
find fellows who got wounded in every bone of 
their bodies and who, notwithstanding that, were 
present at all the great battles of Freedom of this 
great War. Their Service Records at the War De- 
partment will not show most of the exploits they 
talk about, but, what is the use? They claim they 
are heroes, and they must be when they admit it. 

The heroes will be so numerous that I think it will 
be a good tactic to avoid being taken as one7 The 
best thing to do, to my opinion, is to keep quiet 
and try to forget the guys who got away with mur- 
der as they say in the Army, while their comrades 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 199 



or countrymen were giving their young sweet lives 
so that others might live. By this I mean the Bol- 
sheviks, I. W. W., Pacifists, Anarchists, Slackers, 
etc., and many others whom the "doughboy" knows 
but can say nothing for the time being. 



XXV 

Ralph Underwood, 

Pvt. l/c Co. D, 55th Engineers, 

A.E.F., France, APO No. 713. 

Home Address: 1628 4th St., S.E., 

Minneapolis, Minn. 

A changed man faces a changed country when- 
ever a soldier of the American Expeditionary Force 
steps from the gangplank to the land which he left 
ages ago, as history runs. The two-fold nature of 
the change constitutes the given condition; to fore- 
cast the result is the problem. Obviously, any solu- 
tion which does not take into account the mutual 
character of the reaction will fail in this respect of 
completeness and truth. The men of the A. E. F. 
know of the change in themselves from experience, 
and in America from hearsay only; so that their 
ideas as to their future actions must necessarily be 
suggestive rather than authoritative. 

This much they know: their first duty when they 
get back is to themselves. In the main, the biggest 
tangible sacrifice that they have made is the eco- 
nomic one ; and until they can get partial restitution 

for this in the form of employment which will 

200 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 201 

—————— — — ^ — — -— — — — — . "■^■i — ^— — ■^■^■^ 

relieve the most temporary needs of their families, 
where such exist, it is useless to look to them for 
constructive and disinterested aid to the govern- 
ment in the new and critical era of world politics. 
This fact emphasises the need for the supplying of 
returned soldiers with jobs of some kind, even if 
only such artificial ones as might be furnished by 
temporary construction projects undertaken by the 
government. Of course, such measures would not 
solve the problem of re-employment ; but they would 
put the demobilised soldier upon a more equal foot- 
ing with the worker who has stayed at home and 
who, by very reason of the high wages which have 
raised the prices that the soldier must pay, has ac- 
cumulated a reserve enabling him to tide over a 
period of industrial slackness and to choose his per- 
manent work with some freedom from the goad of 
immediate necessity. Few soldiers have saved such a 
reserve from their allotment-riddled pay, and war- 
time prices have often more than swallowed up their 
allotments. This was to be expected, and they do 
not whine about it ; all they want is a fighting chance 
to stand or fall on their own merits when awakened 
industry finds its stride. This much they demand as 
a right, by the recognition of which they will largely 
judge the new America that they find. More than 



202 HOME — THEN WHAT ? 

i ' 'I 

this would be charity, which above all else they 
dread. 

America, then, has a duty to the returning soldier, 
whose fulfillment may require radical legislation be- 
fore the end of 1919. In return, there is much that 
the one-time soldier may and should do for his 
country. His position will enable him to wield, in 
the aggregate, a powerful influence on public senti- 
ment — and herein lies both a promise and a menace. 
In so far as his opinions are reasoned, careful, and 
based upon impartial observation, they will be an 
asset to the nation; in so far as they are emotional, 
impulsive, and coloured by purely personal griev- 
ances, they will be dangerous. It is natural for the 
man who has borne his share in the fray to feel that 
his personal experience entitles him to speak with 
authority; but the very weight which his words will 
carry in his own immediate circle entails upon him 
the obligation to analyse his statements, and to 
guard against sweeping generalisations for which he 
has insufficient grounds. 

Such generalisations, when they appear, will be 
found usually to be "against" something; because 
the mood of resentment brought about by personal 
grievances is not likely to confine its charges to spe- 
cific causes. The man who has been "over there" 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 203 

may have seen flagrant examples of inefficiency and 
waste in government methods ; but this does not enti- 
tle him to say that America's war work was poorly 
handled as a whole, and that thousands of lives were 
intentionally sacrificed. He may have been mis- 
treated by his particular military superiors ; but such 
an experience does not justify an attack upon the 
whole officer class. He may have seen real merit and 
service go unrewarded while drunkenness and in- 
competency were dragged into higher places; but he 
does not know that nothing but "lodge membership 
and hand-shaking" entered into army promotions. 
He may have been overcharged by a Y. M. C. A. 
secretary; but he has no right to condemn on that 
account the work of the whole organisation in 
France. He may have been cheated by several 
Frenchmen; but that does not qualify him to pass 
judgment upon France's motives in calling for an 
amendment to the League of Peace. His range of 
experience has after all been narrowed both by 
natural human limitations and by the restriction and 
censorship of military life. When there is a worthy 
point to be gained by an attack upon some person 
or practice deserving of it (and there will be many 
such), he should not hesitate to criticise, but so far 
as he is wise he will avoid the rather common tend- 



204 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

ency to indulge in bitter, unreasoning complaints 
against conditions for which he could not have 
named a remedy. 

Fortunately, the evils of such blanket charges, 
born as they are of undirected resentment, will prob- 
ably be far more than counterbalanced by the pos- 
itive, useful facts and ideas which have in most cases 
been impressed upon the soldiers by their experience 
in Europe. The average olive-drab-clad visitor from 
the States had had no conception of the immense 
difference between his own people and the civilised 
peoples of Europe. He had been prepared for a 
change, but for nothing like the complete new world 
into which he suddenly found himself transplanted. 
He found peasants farming as their grandfathers 
had farmed, and apparently not looking for a better 
way of doing it; he found the idea of sanitation 
practically unknown; and last, but not least he 
found the sum total of those elements which are 
forced to work under cover in a respectable Puritan 
community flaunted openly in his face. The result 
was that his esteem for America mounted skyward 
with a tremendous leap, while from his first impres- 
sions, his regard for Europeans fell correspondingly 
toward the zero point. Longer acquaintance tended 
almost always to modify this judgment in favour of 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 205 

Europeans ; but it could scarcely be expected that 
the average unphilosophical American soldier could 
in so short a time as a year learn to understand and 
appreciate all or the best features of a civilisation 
so utterly like his own as that, say, of the French. 
As a matter of fact, the American soldier's final 
judgment of any of the Latin nations he may have 
visited, even as mellowed and modified by later dis- 
coveries or unsuspected virtues, will probably con- 
tinue to suffer in fairness because of imperfect under- 
standing. However, time and the general trend of 
interpretative literature will make amends for this 
injustice, and in the meantime Europe's loss is Amer- 
ica's gain. His increased pride in his own country is 
going to make the returning soldier more solicitous 
of its welfare. While he has grown impatient of cer- 
tain army methods, his overseas experience has 
taught him the value of the fundamental form of 
government back of the objectionable details, so that 
his criticism will not on the whole be destructive of 
more than non-essentials. So far from creating a 
spirit of Bolshevism, A. E. F. experience in general 
will tend to a stauncher and more enlightened Amer- 
icanism. 

Nor will the Americanism thus intensified be 
tinged with a belligerent and narrowly nationalistic 



206 HOME — THEN WHAT? 



spirit. Militarism — the doctrine that a certain 
amount of war is a good thing in itself — will not 
find an echo in the heart of the average man who 
has seen service. He knows war for what it is, and 
no amount of shouting and of "spread-eagling" can 
make him believe it glorious. He knows its attend- 
ant privations and far-reaching misery, its hatred- 
breeding, its abnormal temptations and consequent 
wide-spread lowering of moral standards, and its 
excessive waste of life and wealth for vanquished 
and victors alike. He is impressed, if he be of a 
thoughtful type, by its illogical cleavage of society 
on moral issues without a corresponding sifting of 
individuals on the basis of personal merit (for not all 
his nominal "friends" are fit personally to associate 
with a few official "enemies," in spite of the far 
greater justice of the former's causes). Knowing all 
this, he will naturally welcome any device which will 
tend to make wars less frequent. More than this, he 
will take an intense personal interest in those affairs 
of his country which in any way involve the possibil- 
ity of war. His interest in the nation's internal af- 
fairs will be as keen if not keener than ever; but it 
will be profoundly modified by his awakened sense of 
the international significance of these affairs. He has 
been out in the world and has seen its jealousies and 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 207 



friction at first hand, and he realises that the time 
has come when his country must take them always 
into account. In other words, he will be not less a 
citizen of the United States, but much more of a 
citizen of the world. 

The problem thus resolves itself into a question, 
first, of the resourcefulness and generosity of 
changed America, in providing for her returning 
sons, and secondly, of the good sense and judgment 
of those changed sons in the use of their acquired 
knowledge and influence. Both factors in the reac- 
tion will fall short of perfection; but no one who 
believes in democracy can doubt that the result will 
be beneficial, on the whole, both to the nation and to 
the men who battled so unselfishly for its ideals. The 
path of duty for both is clear; and the sound core 
of the A. E. F. opinion may be relied upon, for its 
own part, not to endanger the "great experiment 
in democracy" to which America is pledged. 



XXVI 

Monte B. Wellman, 
Cpl. Hdq. Co., 76th F.A., 

APO 740, Kottenheim, Germany. 
Home Address: Catlettsburg, Kentucky. 

"When I go home I intend to " So begins 

the soldier when he talks of the day when he will 
set foot once more upon the soil of the United States 
and receive his discharge from the Service. Many 
and varied are the avowed intentions of these men. 

Many have already made plans for a rousing good 
time to be had on the money saved during the period 
spent in the Army. As a rule these men are ones 
whose parents are living and are keeping the home in 
readiness for the return of their Hero. They expect 
their soldier boy to enjoy a few weeks of rest and 
in a way it is nothing more than his due. It must be 
considered, however, that this boy has a home await- 
ing his return. His own room, his own bed. Every- 
thing just as he left them to go to War kept neat 
and tidy by a Mother's loving hands. This soldier 
is going home and what the future holds forth wor- 
ries him not a particle. 

Home, That word to me has always conjured up 

208 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 209 

1 1 m il II I —II i n . mi. .in i. i _u. 

pictures of a long, snowy, cloth covered table. A 
stout, jolly elderly man sits at the head of that table 
wielding a carver, while facing him at the other end 
is seated a smiling comfortable appearing matron 
who listens to the chatter of her brood as they dis- 
cuss merrily across the width of napery the happen- 
ings of the day. When the meal is ended, Father 
seeks his paper and an easy chair. Mother prepares 
to hear the lessons of her youngest while Big Brother 
disappears within the upper regions of the house to 
don his most attractive tie in honour of a certain 
charming young feminine visitor in the neighbour- 
hood. Sister reclines gracefully in a wicker chair on 
the vine covered porch awaiting the appearance of 
some one else's Big Brother. 

That is Home to return to. Father, mother, sister, 
brother, and there might be a sweetheart just across 
the way. 

But what of the man who previous to entering 
the Service did not know or had not known for 
many years the real meaning of the word home? 
This man belonged to the order of the wandering 
foot. North, South, East and West had he drifted. 
Parents dead and no immediate relatives, or at least 
no one who would welcome him "Home" and make 
that home real to him. 



210 HOME — THEN WHAT? 



During his stay overseas his longing for home had 
grown stronger and stronger until he would reiterate 
with pathetic emphasis the fact that "When we got 
Home," etc. He knew then down deep that he had 
no home, but he wanted one and wanted it so hard 
that it hurt. 

It will be that want and that hurt that will delude 
many of our discharged soldiers to accept offers of 
false friendship which last only as long as the dol- 
lars do. There comes the critical moment in his 
career and it is only a matter of a few days before 
it can be determined whether or not he will become 
a useful citizen of his country, a worker, a home 
builder and the father of sturdy upstanding young 
Americans. 

If the former soldier allows the "good time" idea 
to predominate in his mind he is taking great chances 
of "coming to" in some dive down Tenderloin way 
without a dollar in his pockets. As his befuddled 
brain strives to readjust itself he will have those 
drowning man flashes of remembrances of what he 
should have done. The new civilian clothes he 
should have purchased. The position he was to have 
acquired. Too late. 

In desperation he may turn to the Army, dis- 
gusted with himself, every one else and with life in 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 211 

general. In that condition of mind he would hardly 
make a good soldier. So his career is entirely spoiled. 

Judging from the experiences of thousands of 
soldiers who have been recently discharged in the 
United States it is evident that the first step after 
receiving final payments and bonus money should be 
the immediate purchase of civilian wearing apparel. 
The articles do not necessarily have to be expensive 
for as long as they are neat they will answer the pur- 
pose any way for the time being. Shoes will be 
another important item. The ex-soldier could not 
do better than to provide himself with a pair or two 
of russet or (as popularly known in the Army) gar- 
rison shoes. It is understood that these shoes may 
be purchased in army camps at about $5.50 a pair. 
They shine easily and really present a very nice 
appearance. 

The next step is to locate a respectable boarding 
house and there pay for at least two weeks' board and 
lodging. There is nothing that will give a man more 
courage when tackling a strange (and it will seem 
strange) proposition than the knowledge that he has 
a meal awaiting him and a place to lay his head 
after a hard day. Quite naturally many men will 
hesitate at parting with two or three weeks' board 
money in a lump sum, especially if the amount of his 



212 HOME — THEN WHAT? 



funds is low, fearing that "a fellow can't have any 
fun without beaucoup jack." That is not true. 

It is possible, even in these mercenary times, to 
find a boarding place conducted by a woman who 
really has the interest of her boarders at heart. She 
will welcome the returned soldier, not particularly 
for monetary reasons, but because she may have a 
boy of her own and, if not, had always longed for 
one. Every one in the house will, in all likelihood, 
try to make things pleasant for him and some will 
be in a position to help in many ways until the 
stranger gets back into civilian stride. And too, there 
may be a nice girl who will be interested in hearing 
of his experiences. It will not be expected that this 
should develop into a love affair, though if she is a 
real, honest-to-goodness girl, and he has become able 
to "stand alone," there are far worse things that 
could befall him. 

When once started in civilian employment it 
would be well to appreciate the fact that wages or 
salaries are not the only things to consider. If the 
work is unfamiliar, the former fighter will not be 
worth much to his employer but if he buckles down 
to it and sticks to it, he is simply bound to make 
good. Once that feeling is acquired that "I am 
making myself useful to my employers and I will go 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 213 



through with this just as we did over there no matter 
how hard the going," then the battle is fairly won. 

Home — then what? It is a great sporting propo- 
sition if one cares to look at it in that light. To go 
back to civilian life under entirely new conditions. 
To overcome the drawbacks of these conditions. To 
surmount all obstacles and carve a niche for oneself. 

The first experience will be like that of the small 
boy learning to swim, a plunge — a gasp — then fran- 
tic motions of feet and hands to the result of much 
lost labour and apparently no success. It is not long, 
however, before the beginner finds himself and has 
little or no trouble keeping on top and making good 
headway. 

After the first plunge into civilian life and the 
novelty wears away, the former wanderer will un- 
doubtedly feel the urge of the Wanderlust. The. 
desire to stroll along strange by-ways and to visit 
new scenes will be strong upon him. A sure cure 
for that feeling is to recall the hike into Germany. 
There is little doubt that the soft white bed will 
seem much more soft and desirable to the ex-soldier 
that night. Stick-to-it-iveness seems to be the key- 
note of success. The soldier well knew how that 
quality worked during the war. It will apply just as 
well with a man's own personal fight for the good 



214 HOME — THEN WHAT? 



things of life. After success comes the possibility 
of home. A home of your own, a wife, children. 
Can a man ask more? Home and then — it is up to 



us. 



XXVII 

Jergeant, Medical Department. 

We have standardised cars, breakfast foods, text- 
books, styles, hymns, houses and ideas. We have 
got to be careful or we shall before long find our- 
selves standardised men. After that, a long fare- 
well to any life worth the living. Already things 
have come to such a pass that if you view with 
jaundiced eye the editorials of the "Morning Yel- 
low" you are regarded with alarm by your friends. 
And this cried-up standardisation is not democracy, 
as too many seem to think, nor even a distant friend 
to democracy. It is in fact its worst enemy. The 
substantial hope of any rule by the people is always 
for a higher and higher level both of thinking and of 
living. The reassuring thing in all the turmoil is 
that democracy seems to rise superior, especially at 
critical moments, to the mouthings of sloppy senti- 
mentalists who pose as the friends of liberty. In 
spite of standardisation, it is always the super-stand- 
ard men who exercise the ruling influence, the indi- 
vidualities, never the crowd. We shall get on better 

if we recognise that primary fact. Make it possible 

215 



216 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

II i mi—— i i — — — — I 

to multiply the few men in America who really save 
us from stagnation by a hundred or a thousand, and 
you can move the world. Ask Wilson. He knows. 

As to what happens to a nation, or person, that 
allows itself to be stultified, cajoled, bullied into 
standardisation, ask Wilhelm, Der Zweite. He 
knows. . . . 

Two years in the army should have made some 
millions of Americans a bit more introspective, more 
interested in all sorts of things, more honest with 
themselves than ever before. And from my own ob- 
servations I should say it has. We must — there is 
no escaping the imperative — we must take accurate 
stock of our minds and of the things that, surround- 
ing us, are part of ourselves. That means throwing 
away hypocrisy, pretense of any kind, having an 
eye single to the happiest way to a higher plane of 
life. Not because it is higher but because it is rea- 
sonably nearer to that estate of freedom of spirit 
where all admirable things may have happy issue to 
the light. 

More directly: How are you going to free the 
spirit of my neighbour who sleeps, not considerately, 
but too well o'nights, is the father of four, mows 
his lawn regularly and seems altogether a decent and 
contented person? 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 217 

When it comes to thinking, what does he know 
about the exciting interests that fairly hum in the 
air nowadays — woman suffrage, international and 
home-grown politics, pictures, books, education, mu- 
sic, capital and labour*? Does he care about any or 
all of them*? Does he understand as he should that 
the right to vote in a republic carries with it as many 
duties as it does privileges, indeed more of them? 
Therefore, he must concern himself with these mat- 
ters if he and the nation are to count in this eternal 
struggle for progress that we are always talking 
about so glibly. If he is a tired business man, let 
him become familiar with the notion of being more 
tired. If he is not interested in the world as it is, 
how compel him to be*? That is the question. 

Perhaps he is a little too prosperous about the 
waist-line to be a fit subject for intensive cultiva- 
tion of spirit, or morale, as it is called of late. The 
answer is, begin not on the father, but on the four 
he has fathered. And there is the nearest answer, 
nearest in point of practicability to most "burning" 
questions — education. 

Education is almost a fetish among us Americans. 
It is a subject on which you can always get a hear- 
ing, and also many responses. There lies the dif- 
ficulty. There are too many cooks to produce a 



218 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

strengthening broth. No experiment seems too silly 
to be tried, somewhere, on some unoffending mem- 
bers of the newer generation if only the sponsor of 
the "movement" calls his nostrum progressive. 
Methods and madness are near allied. What though 
the youngsters can neither spell, write or read if they 
can dance agreeably about the May-pole or delineate 
whole constellations in cut paper. Throw mental 
discipline to the dogs. Few people really believe 
in the eighteenth century dictum that all men are cre- 
ated free and equal. Biologically impossible. But we 
may presume that all of them are born with rudi- 
ments of brains of some sort. The best approxima- 
tion, then, to the ideal is to give them free and equal 
opportunity. There is insistent need of this in a 
republic. In a monarchy a certain stratum is al- 
ways ready and more than willing to supply head- 
liners to this, that or the other service of the State. 
It keeps, as it were, stars on tap. With us we trust 
too much to luck. We must reduce so far as possible 
the chances for disaster by tempting, even daring 
everybody to show whether he has, or has not, some- 
thing valuable in him. If he has not, he will at least 
form part of a sound foundation for the more showy 
towers and pinnacles. 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 219 

Is it, then, to be a different America when we get 
back, or the same as before? Here's to the newer, 
arising America, free as never before, intelligently 
aiming at the stars; unafraid of portentous words 
and pretentious politicians; afraid of hypocrisy and 
ignorance ; keen-eyed before her own defects, no less 
critical of Europe and Asia ; glad in health, strength, 
sanity; guarding always the sacredness of her own 
soul which is also that of all her men. 



SELECTED EXTRACTS 
FROM UNPUBLISHED ESSAYS 

"What greater opportunity have we, than now 
to instill that feeling of being your neighbour's help- 
er and help preserve the unity not only of ourselves 
as individuals but as a nation^" 

• • • • • 

"The men of the A. E. F. must pull together if 
the future generations of America are to be benefited 
by our efforts and trials on this side of the water." 

• • • • • 

(A soldier whose name indicates that he is prob- 
ably a Pole, writes a letter in perfect English and 
excellent penmanship from which the following is 
a brief extract:) 

"The only school I had in America was a night 
school which I was able to attend two years. I had 
six years of public school in Europe but that is all. 
Please let me know if there is anything wrong about 
this letter." 



220 



HOME — THEN WHAT ? 221 

"I have Service 4 year in U S A Army and I want 
say that this has made some men. Better than they 
ever was in there whole life. If army men get in 
trouble it His own fault and now body But Him 
that Cause." 

• • • • • 

"I am going home to fight for better schools and 
churches." 

• • • • • 

"On my return home it is my duty to help raise 
the morale of the men to its highest standard and 
to co-operate in creating good will and fellowship 
toward all, and I will use my influence to the best 
of my ability to make my community a better place 
to live in." 

• • • • • 
"This great war has woke the People of America 

up. I have learned a good deal since I have been 
in France and I would never want to see America 
come to what France is to-day." 

. • • • • 

"This war has made me love my mother more, 
and is making me restless to tell the folks in America 
the lessons I have learned." 



222 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

"Who can be a true soldier without some pride 
in himself and his fellowmen'?" 

• • • • • 

"Each soldier should ever be mindful that in 
after-war years it is still his duty to his God, his 
country and himself to be a good soldier, helping 
each and all as he did when he was upon the battle- 
field." 

• • • • • 

"Let no one curse Columbus for having discovered 
America. An immigrant is a guest who does the work 
we don't want to do ourselves or want done by our 
children. We should be grateful to him. Either 
prevent immigrants from coming to America or kill 
those who are already there or leave them alone or 
educate them and make Americans out of them. 
The word American to hostile ignorant foreigners is 
not sympathetic. Comrade is the word that they 
understand. That means something to every one." 

"One of the most tragic facts about the war is 
that it has gone on in Christendom. The picture in 
the 2nd Psalm has been reversed. The African 
heathen has asked 'why do the Christians rage*?' 
Wars must be prevented in the future by a control 



HOME — THEN WHAT? 226 

l. — 5 

of international life and this may best be accom- 
plished through a 'League of Nations.' " 

• • * • • 

"The war is over. But is war over? To the sol- 
dier who is inclined to farming there is still a war 
between man and the insects; to the soldier who is 
inclined to medicine there is still a war between man 
and disease; to the soldier who is inclined to 
philanthropy there is still a war between man and 
ignorance ; to the soldier who is inclined to preaching 
there is still a war between man and sin." 

• • • • • 

"Higher education without a soul is more than a 
farce — it is a very 'sorceress of Hell' itself. We 
must get away from German ideas of education be- 
cause education must become synonymous with 
civilisation. That may appear simply a personal 
statement, but I assure you it is the opinion of most 

of our boys." 

• • • . • 

"If we allow the subtle teachings of 'Kultur' to 
influence our minds we shall at last come to the place 
where we do not know what we believe, nor believe 
what we know — a condition of despair closely akin 
to the divine madness which began the war." 



224 HOME — THEN WHAT? 

* m 

"We have seen a Nation stampeded by lies and 
propaganda, and we are for universal truth." 

• • • • • 

"Home means that Heaven hallowed spot where 
is the family hearth be it where the spreading mead- 
ows and trickling brook delight the eye and enlarge 
the soul, or where is that snug little bungalow by 
the side of the street where the children of men go 
by. The first place that we will begin our work is 
at home and rightly so, for the home is the founda- 
tion of our whole social and political system. Those 
of us who have not homes of our own, expect to 
have some day and we do not expect that some day 
to be very far off in many cases. And let me whis- 
per a secret; the boys of the A.E.F. do not have any 
conception of a real happy home without there being 
children there." 

• • • • • 

"We can but answer to our comrades who lie 
'where poppies grow' the good arm of American 
youth shall forge a link with the hammer of comrade- 
ship, and of the anvil of justice and fair play, a link 
whose strength shall not break faith with the cause 
for which they gave themselves a sacrifice, and a link 
whose workmanship shall stand the criticism of the 
artist Time." 







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